Smoke and Mirrors
by DWTT
Summary: When the Doctor is attacked and obtains serious brain damage, it is up to Donna to help him recover and figure out who wants him dead. Rated T for later chapters.
1. Prologue

HI! This is my first story, so please go easy on me ^^;  
Doctor Who Copyright BBC - I own only a few of these characters :D_  
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_Darkness._  
_Weight._  
_Heavy._  
_Falling. He's falling.  
Laughing. Someone's laughing. Pain. Everywhere. Red. Blood. Blood around him. Blood on the ground. Blood on his hands. Something sharp. More pain. Darkness. Light. Bright light. He's underwater. Can't breathe. Need to breathe. Can't move. Need to move. Screaming. Someone's screaming. He's screaming. Pain. Everywhere. More blood. Still can't breathe. More darkness. Silence. More light. Lights. Shining through the darkness. He's falling again. The lights are gone. Falling through the blackness._

_Smoke._  
_There's smoke. Too much smoke._  
_Can't breathe again. Need to breath. Faces in the smoke. Taunting. Laughing. Why are they there? Wait. They're gone. Where'd they go? Doesn't matter. Need to breathe. Walk. Walk through the smoke .More faces. Different faces. Familiar faces. They're burning. Burning and crying. They're screaming. The screaming is echoing. Echoing of the nothingness. It hurts. Why won't it go away? The screaming hurts. They're dying. No. They're dead. Dead now. They're all dead. Where's the smoke coming from? Why won't it go away? It's getting darker. Why's it getting darker again? The smoke's gone away. Nothing. No. He can see the sky. The sky and the stars. He can name all of those stars. But it's still dark. Wait. No it's not. It's getting brighter. And hotter. Hot. Too hot. He's burning. Burning like all the others. It's taking too long. Why isn't he dead yet? Why won't he die?_


	2. Comatose

I am currently re-writing some chapters. Only little things, since I found some things that didn't quite work. Eg. This story takes place after The Poison Sky, yet I wrote that Donna did not know the Doctor worked for UNIT. These are all to be corrected :D

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It was early morning when Donna awoke to the steady, single beat of the monitor. It had been three days, and he was still motionless. Lying pale and ashen on the white hospital bed, hooked up to so many machines. She was yet to be told the full extent of the damage, as even Dr. Sullivan didn't know how bad it was. He didn't know how long the coma was going to last either. It was horrible seeing him so sick. He just didn't get sick. He just didn't. But he was. And there was nothing she could do about it.

The digital clock on the bedside table – half obscured by a vase of white and red roses – read 8:47am. Sunlight, warm and bright, filtered through the open window, along with a cool breeze. It blew the scent of the flowers in her direction and ruffled the curtains. She sighed and slowly got to her feet. She had refused to leave his side, even when she was told to go home. So she slept at the hospital and called her folks regularly, as was their agreement.

In ten minutes a nurse would come in and check on his progress. She would ask Donna if he awoke during the night and she would so 'no' and the nurse would say she's sorry and then she'd leave. It happened every day. She decided to get some breakfast first, so she patted his hand affectionately, carefully avoiding the IV, and headed off. He was in a private room in ICU, for even though his condition was stable, it was still critical. They said his heart could give out at any moment, and that scared her. More than she let others see.

She was tired, and coffee was her new best friend. She would wake up constantly during the night due to nightmares or thoughts that he had died and the lack of sleep was beginning to take its toll on her. If not for her coffee, she would probably fall asleep during the day quite often. Breakfast was usually toast and cereal and she would chat with people who had close friends or family members in the hospital, just to relate. Some even had it worse than her.

After breakfast, she dejectedly returned to ICU to see Dr. Sullivan waiting for her with some x-rays. He looked grim, and she braced herself for the worst. "I'm terribly sorry Ms. Noble..."  
"But?" He gave a fleeting, weak, sad smile. "But the news is worse than we thought," she sat in a plastic chair as he put the x-rays on a light board. They were of two very different brains. "There has been severe damage to the Frontal and Left Temporal Lobes and minor damage to a section of the Cerebellum called the Hippocampus," he pointed out the sections of brain he was referring to. "...So what's going to happen to him?" He took a deep breath, held it, and then let it out as a sigh. "The Frontal Lobe is used for reasoning, planning, speech, some movement, emotions and problem solving, the Left Temporal Lobe is for recognition of sounds, memory and speech and the Hippocampus is important for learning and memory and converts short-term memories to long-term memories and is for knowing our relationship with the world around us,"  
"So...?"  
"He will no longer be able to speak and possibly hear, he won't be able to understand English but it _is _possible be will remember the basics. He may be Amnesiac and will quite possibly have limited movement, and it's possible he may need to be re-taught how to walk and move around properly," she lowered her eyes and stared at the floor, fighting back tears.

Dr. Sullivan looked almost as sad as her, staring unseeingly at the wall behind her. "He won't remember me," she whispered incredulously. It took him a second – he was clearly lost in thought – for him to realize she'd spoken. "Hmm?"  
"He won't remember me," she repeated, louder. "I'm afraid not,"  
"You know him," he took a step back and stared at her. "I-no-I mean I-... Err,"  
"I know you do," he looked as if he was about to argue, but then he gave up. He sat on another chair and sighed. "There's no point in arguing... Yes, I know him,"  
"I've never seen you before though,"  
"I knew him many years ago, I travelled with him for a while, with Sarah,"  
"Uh-huh,"  
"Yes, he was UNIT's scientific advisor,"  
"Ah..." They renaubed silent for a few seconds.

"I met him in the oddest circumstances," he stated, turning to watch the Doctor. "Trust me, so did I," he smiled at her comment, and his eyes lit up. "I got a call from the Brigadier telling me it was an urgent case, so I hurried there to see a man on the floor, muttering in some kind of delirium. He was talking about a spinning mouse or something,"  
"Was he alright?"  
"Sort of. I took him to the sick bay to do a proper examination, but when I went back with the equipment both he and his jacket were missing, I guessed where'd he'd gone and found him about to leave in the TARDIS," Donna smiled. That sounded like him. "So I tried to stop him but he was... It's hard to explain. He was trying to persuade me to let him go, I refused so he tied me up in a metal cupboard until Sarah and the Brigadier found me," she laughed. "I was at my wedding,"  
"Oh dear,"  
"And then I was suddenly in the TARDIS. I thought he'd kidnapped me or something,"  
"He's regenerated again," he stated. "He's what?"  
"Regenerated," he took out his wallet and showed a photo within. It was obviously of a younger him, standing beside a man with a ridiculously long scarf wrapped around the two of them and a young girl who had her arms wrapped around the man's waist. Doctor Sullivan was trying to inconspicuously steal the man's fedora.

That couldn't possibly be him. But the photo looked old enough to be genuine. "That's him?" She leaned closer to the photo, unbelieving. "Yes, quite different wasn't he?"  
"That scarf is ridiculous. I'm guessing the girl's Sarah?"  
"Yes, Sarah-Jane. She saw him very much as a brother. To me... He was more of a mentor I guess," he shrugged, and then seemed to notice the time. "Oh, sorry Ms. Noble-"  
"Call me Donna," he smiled and they shook hands. "Harry," he informed. She was glad to know someone else who was friends with the Doctor. He seemed nice. But then reality came crashing down and the full force of what was happening hit her. Tears filled her eyes and she sat heavily in the chair. The slow beating on the monitor was no longer comforting. The steady rhythm faltered, and then sped up. It returned to a more normal beat and Donna wandered whether she was imagining it. His breathing hitched. There was a pause. His eyes opened.


	3. Brain Damage

Time seemed to stand still. Donna stood up, and remained unmoving, as her friend was brought back to reality. Moving robotically, she pressed the button beside the bed as he stared at the ceiling. Dr. Sullivan's words still hung heavily in the air, and she was replaying them over and over again in her mind. He would have to be retaught how to walk and how to talk. If it was even possible. There was a jump in the heartbeat and Donna looked at him. He was staring up at her. She smiled, but doubted he understood what it meant. "Hey Doctor," she brushed some of his fringe from his eyes and he closed them, smiling faintly. Did he remember her? _Could _her remember her?

A nurse hurried in, probably expecting the worst, and was obviously surprised when she saw him awake. "Oh, should I get Dr. Sullivan?"  
"Yes please," she nodded and then left hurriedly. Donna returned her attention to the Doctor. His eyes were open, and he was watching her with a strange expression. She stared back, and they stayed like that, in complete silence, until Donna's phone rang. "Hello?"  
"Donna, you haven't called, is everything alright?" She sighed. It was Wilfred, who had started to worry after she hadn't called. "Yes, everything's fine. Better than fine. He's awake," there was a pause. "How is he, and don't lie to me Donna," she momentarily held her breath. "He's got some serious injuries,"  
"…Yes?" She swallowed convulsively. "He probably won't be able to speak or hear or understand English, if he _can _hear, but it _is _possible he will remember, you know, basic stuff. He might have Amnesia and will probably have very limited movement. It's possible he may need to be re-taught how to walk and move around properly too," again there was silence from the other end. She snuck a glance at the Doctor and he was watching the heartbeat on the monitor curiously. Of cause, most of the staff here didn't know that the single beat was meant to be a double beat. One of his hearts wasn't working, and hadn't been for three days now. And with the risk of his single heart stopping…

She sighed, suddenly feeling as if all three nights' had just hit her in the face. "Look, can I call you back later?"  
"Of cause, whatever makes you feel better just... Help him Donna, he needs it, now more than ever,"  
"Sure," she hung up and turned to see the Doctor watching her again. He tilted his head and his lips twitched in a half-smile. Harry stormed in, throwing the doors open and striding towards her. The nurse from before followed him nervously. Wordlessly, he helped the Doctor into a sitting position and then stepped back, watching him with sad eyes. "Oh Doctor... What's happened to you?" The Doctor stared back at him blankly until he turned away; and he then returned his attention to Donna.

Harry seemed to notice this and gazed back and forth between them. "That's strange," he waved his hand in front of the Doctor's face, but he didn't as much as blink. "Dr. Sull-... Harry, is it possible for him to remember me?" He shook his head. "No, he can't. The damage is very serious, it's impossible. But you _do _seem to have his attention rather thoroughly. Perhaps he doesn't remember you as such, but his subconscious recognizes you or something. It's happened before," he still sounded dubious, following the Doctor's unwavering gaze. Donna took an experimental step to the left, and his head tilted slightly to follow the movement. "How do we tell if he can hear?" She asked, waving her arm in the air. He followed it with his eyes and Harry clicked his fingers right next to the Doctor's ear while he was distracted.

The Doctor flinched away and then proceeded to stare at Harry with a small frown. "Well, he can hear, it's probably very limited since he only reacts when the noise is close, but at least it's something," it was better than nothing. He turned back to Donna and pouted. It reminded her greatly of a small toddler being told off, and she had to resist the urge to laugh. Harry turned to the nurse. "Nurse, chart please," the nurse took the chart from the end of the bed and handed it to Harry. He then began to study it. Donna was confused. "What are you doing?"  
"He's conscious, Donna, some of the things on this chart will have changed. It's time to find out what."

Harry, Donna and the Nurse walked out of the room. The Doctor followed the three with his eyes. Just before she closed the door, Donna glanced back at the Time Lord with sympathetic eyes. The Doctor seemed to almost recognize the look. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly until it became a small smile. Donna smiled back and then shut the door.


	4. Grace Holloway

Most of this chapter was actually not written by me, but since I haven't been informed of the style change, I felt no need to point it out. It was written by a close friend of mine.

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Harry, Donna and the Nurse stood in the hallway. Harry and the Nurse were engaged in conversation about medical stuff. Donna stared down the hallway, her mind deep in memory. There was something she was trying to remember. Something she had to remember. It could be vital. What was it?

Before she knew it, Harry was tapping her on the shoulder. "_Donna_," came his voice, breaking into her thoughts. "Donna," Donna shook her head. "Yes?"  
"Nurse Watson and I are going to arrange the necessary tests. You stay here and comfort the old boy," Harry turned to walk away but Donna pulled him back. "What?" Donna stared at Harry. "I have to remember," she said. "I beg your pardon?"  
"He told me. A while back. He told me something…"  
"Look," said Harry, trying to be gentle. "I'm sorry, Donna. But this no time-" Donna cut in. "I can't remember but I have to. It could save him,"  
"Please let go of me," insisted Harry. "We need to see the full extent of his consciousness," he violently pulled his arm from Donna's grip and pointed to the Doctor's room. "Now kindly go in there and try and comfort him."

Donna was still staring at Harry. "Look," he breathed, placing his hands on Donna's shoulders. "Donna, I know it's hard. But we've got to do everything we can, regardless of how small it might seem. In these sorts of situations, miracles happen. Not always, but they do. The smallest things can trigger reactions. Now please. For his sake."

Harry took his hands away. He nodded at Nurse Watson and the two started walking down the hall, leaving Donna standing outside the Doctor's room. She stood there for a few seconds. "Holloway!" she suddenly shouted. Harry turned, surprised. "I'm sorry?" Donna started walking towards them. "That was her name. Grace Holloway. She's a doctor in San Francisco,"  
"Unless you haven't noticed, Donna. We're a long way from San Francisco,"  
"He said he got shot in San Francisco. He was taken to hospital and he was operated on by a woman called Grace Holloway. Maybe she can help us," Harry turned to Nurse Watson. "Search everywhere you can. I want to see if we can get her in and if so, when," Harry kissed Donna on the forehead. "I see he still picks his companions well."

3 DAYS LATER…

Grace Holloway stepped out of the taxi and walked through the doors, approaching the front desk. The receptionist looked up as she approached. "How can I help you today?"  
"Hi, I'm Dr. Grace Holloway. I believe Dr. Sullivan is expecting me,"  
"Just a second," The receptionist turned and saw Harry casually walking across the lobby. "Oh, Dr. Sullivan," she called. Harry turned. "This is Dr. Holloway. You're expecting her?" Harry's eyes lit up with hope. "Good," he yelled. He ran towards Grace, grabbed her hand and led her towards the lift. "There's someone you need to see."

There was a knock on the door. Donna looked up, and the Doctor followed her gaze curiously. Donna turned to the Doctor and smiled. "Don't worry," she said, brushing his hair from his face. "Help's here," she got up from her chair and opened the door. Grace and Harry stood there. Donna shook Grace's hand. "You must be Grace," she said. "I'm Donna," Grace smiled. "Nice to meet you. Is this him?" Both Donna and Harry nodded. Grace entered the room and sat in the chair. "Oh, lord. He's done it again," Harry knew the feeling. "I know," Grace turned to him. "You know about it to?"  
"I didn't see it happen but I saw the effects of it," Grace turned back to the Doctor. "So did I. Hey handsome," she said. "It's me, remember?" Harry and Donna winced. Harry tapped Grace on the shoulder. "I'd better fill you in."

"Oh, great!" Grace slammed her fist on Harry's desk. "I know," replied Harry. "But those are the facts. I'm sorry!" Grace rubbed her face. "I know, I know. Damn it!"  
"Look! We called you here because you operated on him before,"  
"Yes. For a gunshot wound not massive brain damage," Grace rubbed her already sore eyes. There was silence for a few awkward seconds. Donna broke the ice. "I'm going to go back to him," steadily growing louder, there was the sound of light drumming on the roof. "Oh, great," said Harry. "More rain. We've getting heaps of it lately. It's insane," Grace frowned. "As insane as a two-hearted Time Lord, who has massive brain damage lying destitute in a hospital bed while the only people who can help him are standing in an office talking about how insane the rainfall's been lately?" Harry got the point. "Fair enough."

Donna entered the room to find the bed empty. As she walked further inside, she found the Time Lord kneeling at the window, drawing shapes in the mist. At first, Donna dismissed this harmless activity. As she got closer, she noticed a familiar object. She walked over to the window and inspected the picture further. It was a Police Box. "Harry, Grace! I think you should see this!"


	5. Heart Attack

Donna stood behind the Doctor and watched him draw as she waited for the others. They were mostly indescribable shapes that had no meaning, but one was quite clearly a Police Box, circled and in the centre of the pictures. And then, once the window began to fog up and cover it, he redrew it just as clearly as he had the first time.

When Harry and Grace entered they were arguing about something, but both froze and stared wordlessly at the Doctor when they saw him. "That's impossible," Harry whispered. Somehow, the Doctor had managed to get both the heart monitor and the IV out of his arms before going over to the window and drawing. "He shouldn't even be able to walk yet," Grace smiled, "he's the Doctor Harry, he's not normal,"  
"Yes… But still…" Incredulously, he walked over to the Doctor and watched as he drew. Again, he turned to Donna and smiled, and she smiled back encouragingly. "They're wonderful," he grinned and, for second, he was himself again. But of cause the grin returned to just a smile as he redrew the pictures that had been covered with mist.

Harry, frowning slightly, wrapped his arms round the Doctor's waist, who went rigid, but relaxed as Harry hauled him to his feet. He swayed, but managed to hold his own weight, so Harry cautiously let go of him, holding his arms out just in case. The Doctor looked at everyone in turn and then took a step forward. His leg wobbled a bit, but he righted himself and then took another slow, shaky step. The look on his face gave away the level of concentration this was requiring. It hurt Donna seeing like this, but if Grace and Harry had known him for as long as they claimed, it must have been a hundred times worse for them.

Harry shook his head, as if refusing to believe what he was seeing. "This. Is. Impossible. He shouldn't be able to walk yet. He shouldn't even be able to stand," as if that was a queue, his legs buckled beneath him and the Doctor fell with a startled cry. Harry caught him as he fell and he groaned. His eyes rolled back and he went limp in Harry's arms. "Doctor, Doctor?" He gently placed him on the ground and checked his pulse and breathing. "That can't be good,"  
"What's happened to him?" Donna blurted out. She was trying to hide the fear as best she could, but it evidently hadn't worked. Harry glanced at her. "I don't know, his brain just did something extremely strenuous for the state it's in, it could be something as simple as it shutting down," he sounded as if he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else. "Anyway, we have to get him back on the bed," with the help of Donna and Grace, they managed to hook him back up to the IV and the monitor. The heartbeat it recorded was sluggish and weak. They decided to take careful measures, and added more machines Donna had never heard of and gave him an oxygen mask. He almost looked worse than before.

Again, she had forgotten to call Wilfred and her phone rang, breaking the silence and startling her. "I'm so sorry, I forgot to call,"  
"It's alright, you know I'm just worried,"  
"Yes… Do you want the truth or just something to make you happy?"  
"What's happened to him Donna?"  
"Somehow he managed to take the IV and heart monitor out of his arms and get to the window. We found him drawing pictures in the fog,"  
"That's bad?"  
"No. That's good. He drew the TARDIS,"  
"I thought you said-"  
"I know, but maybe we were wrong. Maybe he remembers,"  
"I don't know how that's bad,"  
"No, that's still good," Donna took a deep breath. "Dr. Sullivan got him to his feet and he started walking_. _He was _walking. _But, he kind of… Collapsed… Something's gone wrong and no one knows what it is, but it could be as simple as his brain switching off for a while," the beat on the monitor began to speed up, and Donna glanced at it worriedly. "Sorry, I have to go," she hung up before he had a chance to argue.

The Doctor opened his eyes and then closed them again before he started coughing violently. "Harry! Grace! Help me!" She tried to hold him still as they ran in and went straight to her. "What happened?" Harry asked breathlessly, Grace hovering behind him worriedly. "I-I don't know, the monitor just started going faster," he had stopped coughing, but was breathing in short, quick gasps and the monitor was making no indication it was going to slow down. "Oh my god, he's not having a heart attack or something is he!" Harry didn't reply, he just went over to a tray with lots of needles and medical equipment. She turned to Grace instead. "Please tell me he's not having a heart attack!"  
"He has two hearts; working with just one would put a lot of strain on it," She didn't want to believe what she was hearing. He was having a heart attack.

It had been hours and she was still waiting impatiently. Harry and Grace had told Donna to wait outside. They were operating on the Doctor and she wasn't allowed to do anything. She couldn't even see him. Grace had said that she had operated on him before. She also mentioned she'd killed him. What if something went wrong? What if…? Donna shook her head and began to pace. Her patience seemed to get worse and worse every time she said the Doctor was going to be fine. She could hear a clock ticking and people passing by. She didn't see them. They didn't matter. She was about to just give in to the worries when the doors burst open.

She sat down in a plastic chair as Harry strided towards her. "How is he?" She asked instantly, he remained silent for a few seconds. "We found out why only one heart was beating," uh-oh. "Why?" He reached into a pocket and took out a small plastic bottle. He handed it to her and she gazed into it. A small lump of metal glinted in the light from the lamp behind her. "What is it?"  
"A bullet. It was lodged in the left atrium of his heart and it was pretty bunged up,"  
"Which heart?"  
"The right one,"  
"So his right heart isn't working and the other one just had a heart attack?"  
"Yes," Harry sat beside her and they both looked at the bullet. "Is he going to be alright?"  
"We don't know yet," Harry sounded tired. More tired than she'd ever felt. "He doesn't need any of this, he doesn't deserve it," she whispered, staring at the bullet with something akin to hatred. "I know, but we can't control any of it can we?" Harry replied. Donna nodded and stared at the floor. "What's Grace doing?"  
"Trying to keep his condition stable. His right heart has started beating, but if we take him off life support both of them will fail,"  
"So he's basically hooked up to lots of machines?" Harry smiled faintly. "Basically,"

It was worse than she'd thought. He still had the oxygen mask, IV and heart monitor – which now portrayed a very weak double-beat – but also many other machines. He was practically surrounded by them. If those machines malfunctioned… What if there was a blackout? It was highly unlikely, but possible. She sighed and sat on the bed beside him. "When you get out of this Martian boy I'm gonna kick you in the-"  
"Hey Donna,"  
"Hmm?" She glanced up to see Grace leaning against the doorframe. "I hope you don't mind, but when he recovers enough to leave the hospital, you'll have to look after him,"  
"Oh,"  
"He'll have to stay at your house and he _must _be supervised at all times,"  
"Ok. I can do that," she smiled weakly and returned her attention to the Doctor. If not for the slow rise and fall of his chest, misting of the oxygen mask, and beat on the monitor, he could have been mistaken for a corpse.


	6. After Life Support

A further two days passed and he was still kept on life support. His hearts were growing stronger and could beat on their own with just as much strength without the machines for short periods of time. Apparently it was good for his recovery to do so, but Donna panicked anyway whenever they did it, afraid his hearts were going to stop. Right now he was unhooked, and she was watching him breath. He looked like death warmed up, but at least it was better than looking like death.

"He's recovered significantly," Donna nodded in agreement. "Has anything like this ever happened to him before?" Harry shook his head. "Not that I know of, but a lot of his life is a mystery to me," he shrugged. "You know about him living with you right?"  
"Oh yeah, I'm fine with it," he nodded and then walked over to the bed, starting to re-hook all the machines. "How long until he wakes up again?"  
"I don't know, sometime today or tomorrow, it's not definite,"  
"Huh. You said he wouldn't be able to walk or understand anything we did,"  
"I know, but miracles have happened before. For all I know his brain could be affected completely differently compared to our brains,"  
"But he's still…"  
"I know Donna," he gave her a comforting hug and headed for the door. "Make sure to tell me if he wakes up," she nodded half-heartedly as he closed the door behind him.

Harry had brought in another x-ray they had taken that day of the Doctor's brain in case it showed signs of recovery. Evidently to him did, but it was only minute and barely noticeable to the untrained eye. It had been almost a whole week since what was now being referred to as 'The Incident' and the police had stopped looking for the criminals who had attacked the Doctor. All Donna knew was that someone had found him unconscious in an alleyway with blood everywhere. She shuddered whenever she pictured that in her head. The mystery person had called the ambulance when they realized he wasn't breathing and managed to keep him alive until they got there. That was when he fell into the coma.

He had dropped Donna off at her house earlier that day to 'run some errands'. He hadn't returned. Luckily they found his phone – which was actually hers but he was borrowing – and called her home phone. She had answered and they told her they'd found him. By the time she got to the hospital he was deeply comatose. No one knew how serious the damage was and they had already performed surgery on one of his arms, which had been seriously messed up. A splinter of bone had ended up in his bloodstream and got lodged in his working heart. Harry was starting to believe that it had damaged it more than they first thought and could have helped cause the heart attack.

From what the police could tell from his x-rays, he had been jumped from behind and hit repeatedly in the back and side of the head by a blunt object. They believed he then hit something sharp when he fell because a perfectly straight crack was on the side of his skull. They believed that had caused the extent of the damage to his Left Temporal Lobe. His arm was harder to explain for them. Two long gauges ran down his ulna and radius – caused by a knife and _a lot _of force from what they could tell – but that couldn't explain it breaking in such a violent way that it had. Donna couldn't imagine how much pain he would've been in when, on the ground after this attack, he was then shot in the right shoulder. Or they were aiming for his heart and missed, whichever one. What horrified her the most was that they then left him in a dark, damp alley to die.

But now… There was no blood, there were no broken bones. The only indication of the attack was all the machines, a scar – now almost completely hidden by his hair – and the bandages wrapped thickly around his left arm. If– no when he woke up, the damage would make itself all too known. The double-beat on the monitor would alert her if he woke up, for his hearts seemed to make a strange jump, as if seeing her scared him. Perhaps he was just surprised to see her. Either way, she was grateful for being able to tell when he was awake. She smiled weakly, despite herself, and walked over to his bed. She sat beside him and took his hand. "You're gonna be fine, you're gonna get through this mate," only the steady beat of the monitor replied.

It had been eight days since The Incident. Today he was being taken off life support completely, but was to remain in ICU until they knew he was recovering at a significant and healthy rate. They would have to do even more tests due to the heart attack, but the first thing they were going to do was teach him how to walk again. Although he already seemed to be able to do so, he was only able to take two steps last time and it took him a lot of concentration and effort. And quite possibly pain. Harry and Grace were getting worried, he was meant to have woken up already, and they hoped that getting rid of all the machines would help hurry along the process.

They were doing so right now, removing all machines except for the heart monitor and the IV. He looked almost like he had before the attack. It meant he was getting better. Donna was practically holding her breath as they unhooked the last machine and pushed it aside. He remained unmoving, but the beat on the monitor slowed a tiny amount. It was normal for his hearts to react like that, suddenly without the extra help, but it worried her anyway. They decided to keep the mask on as a precaution.

After learning how to walk, they'd teach him how to talk again. Or they hoped they would anyway. They warned her that he might not be able to talk at all, but they also mentioned that for how bad the damage was, it was only temporary and there was the chance he'd recover completely. There was also the chance that some damage would remain permanent. There was even the possibly that his personality would change. She didn't want that. She wanted the Doctor. She wanted _her _Doctor.

"He's going to be fine," she smiled humourlessly. "You're not meant to be here,"  
"I'm not working my shift today, so I came to check on my handsome man," the smile turned half-real. "Oh, so you're taking a fake sickie then?" Grace laughed and walked over to Donna, who was still sitting on the side of the Doctor's bed, her fingers interlocked with his. "No signs of improvement?" She asked, inspecting his chart. "Nope,"  
"No decline either?"  
"No, there's been no change at all. Grace you said-"**  
**"I know what I said Donna, he _will _wake up… Eventually,"  
"What if he doesn't wake up?"  
"He will, don't worry. He's off the life support, at least there's that," it was true, and only a matter of time before he woke up.

Within the hour all the unneeded machines had been removed from the ward and the Doctor's hearts were beating just as fast without them as they had been with them. He was still yet to wake up, but by now they were positive he was recovering at a healthy and stable rate. If he had not woken up by the next day however, they were going to force him awake by pumping a small dose of adrenaline straight into his veins.

Donna wished it didn't have to get to that, but if he didn't wake up, there would be no alternative. She barely left his bedside, even for food or sleep. As much as she needed them, she was afraid to leave in case he woke up. If he did, she was told he might panic if she wasn't there. It was getting close to sunset, and the light filtering through the open window was slowly turning a deep shade of orange. Donna yawned and stretched, finally getting to her feet. Her legs were tired from the little work they were getting and she almost fell over when her feet hit the ground. She sighed and pulled back the sheets of the bed beside his – her bed – and sat on the edge. For once she didn't feel tired. She just wanted to sit and think. Her barely organized thoughts were interrupted by a groan beside her.

Almost ecstatic, she leapt off the bed, ignoring the pins and needles in her feet, and watched as he opened his eyes. He turned his head slightly and saw her, his lips tugging up in a smile. "Hey," she whispered as he closed his eyes again and she took his hand in wanted to inform Harry and Grace of his condition, but she was now almost scared to leave his bedside. She then remembered the button. Tentatively, she reached across and pressed the button before sitting on the bed. As she did so, his eyes opened and he watched her intently. "It's me, Donna, remember?" He frowned and squirmed, but the frown flipped and he grinned cheekily, sticking his tongue out between his teeth at her. She laughed; it seemed so very much like him all of a sudden.

The doors opened – although she barely noticed – and Harry and Grace entered. He jumped, as if someone had physically hit him, and he groaned again, his face scrunching up into one of pain. He heaved, and he looked as if he was about to throw up. "Is he alright?" Harry asked, momentarily panicking. He relaxed almost instantly and answered his own question. "Oh, he's fine; his body is only now healthy enough to feel the effects of concussion… I think he's about to vomit," he explained as he sat the Doctor up and put a bucket on his lap, but he soon realized he was dry-heaving, with nothing for his stomach to bring back up. He coughed up bile and then slumped back onto the pillows, looking nothing short of horrid. "So this is normal yeah?" Donna asked as the two Doctors fussed over their patient. "Yes," Grace answered. "Vomiting and tiredness are normal symptoms of someone with concussion,"  
"He didn't vomit,"  
"Yes, but his body tried to," it was unnerving watching them fuss over him again. But within a few minutes they decided his condition was normal and told her to keep a careful eye on him.

They had left once again and she was now alone with the Doctor. He was improving. She sat on the bed and leaned closer to his serene face. Quite without warning his eyes opened and she was gazing into the pools of chocolate-brown. He tilted his head, and then pushed himself up and kissed her forehead. Donna was left momentarily stunned as he fell back onto the pillows, seemingly already asleep. If he didn't remember her, he wouldn't do show any affection towards her like that… Would he?


	7. Public Ward

Had to change a few things in this chapter due to inconsistencies, but its all good now :D

* * *

The very next day, the Doctor was being moved from private ICU to a public ward. Harry and Grace believed it would be good for him to be around other people and said it would help him familiarize himself with his environment. If his brain had recovered enough to do that. Donna was opening the curtains as the Doctor watched her. The random bouts of unconsciousness were becoming less and less common, and lasted for shorter and shorter amounts of time. They were almost three hours apart on average and lasted up to half an hour. Apparently they were helpful; while he was 'out of it' – as Donna put it – it gave his brain a chance to recuperate and heal more intensively.

She turned to glance at him and he was gravitating towards the patch of sun on his bed. His eyes were closed and he was smiling blissfully. She felt like smiling when he smiled. It was better than him hooked up to machines and barely alive. She ruffled his hair playfully as she walked past. He pouted and leaned away from her. She just laughed at him and rearranged the wilted flowers, frowning slightly; she was going to have to get some new ones. Harry and Grace entered then, and they noticed how lively the Doctor looked. He was practically bouncing up and down when they entered. "You seem happy," Grace observed, checking his chart while Harry decided to see what Donna was doing. "You realize those flowers are dead right?" He stated, poking one and watching as a few petals floated down. "Yeah, I'm planning on going out today and getting some more," he smiled. "First time leaving the hospital in quite a while," he said. She laughed. "Yes, let's hope I don't get lost," she took her handbag and headed out.

It was strange leaving the hospital. As soon as she walked through the doors and out into the busy main street, something in the back of her mind tugged her back towards the hospital. She ignored it and started off. She was only getting some flowers, surely nothing would happen in that short amount of time. She laughed at how ridiculously motherly she was being and waited to cross the road. "Donna, hey Donna!" She spun around at the familiar voice, and saw Neila, a colleague from work jogging in her direction, waving like a lunatic. "Oh, hey Neila," Niela was a fitness freak, always out walking or jogging or doing some other form of exercise. She had long, curling blonde hair that was currently tied back and was wearing shorts and a low cut shirt advertising some random band Donna had never heard off. She was probably in her early twenties, and Donna had showed her the basics when it came to work and they quickly grew acquainted.

She stopped beside Donna, panting, and smiled. "You haven't been at work," she stated in an almost accusing way. "Yeah, about that," to avoid explaining, she crossed the road, but Neila followed her. "You haven't been at work for, like, two weeks,"  
"One week, actually,"  
"One and a half. What's up?" she didn't tell her she wasn't planning on returning to work at all. She sighed and decided to just tell the truth. "A friend of mine was attacked in an alleyway and he's got serious brain damage. He's also had a heart attack, but he seems to have recovered from that. I haven't left the hospital because he depends on me to feel safe," Neila nodded. "Once he can leave the hospital he's got to stay with me at home and I have to look after him," she looked sympathetic. "I'm so sorry,"  
"Don't worry, he's gonna be fine, I know it," she then entered the flower shop and Neila followed her.

She gazed at the roses, and then the tulips. "What are you getting flowers for?"  
"Him," some deep purple roses caught her eye and she wandered over to them. "When are you taking him home?"  
"Don't know yet,"  
"You're sure?"  
"_Yes_," Neila's constant stream of questions was starting to annoy her. She bought the flowers and headed back outside. "How about, once you get  
him back to your place, I bring the girls over and we can help you?" Donna smiled faintly. "Thanks, but-"  
"No, I insist. I know what it feels like to have someone you love be seriously affected by an attack; my mother was murdered when I was young," Donna turned to her, startled. "Oh, I'm sorry,"  
"No, it's nothing. I want to help you, because I know what you're going through,"  
"Thanks," Donna didn't have the heart to argue at that moment.

Neila continued on her way and Donna headed back towards the hospital. That nagging feeling that something had happened returned and she picked up her pace. She knew she was being stupid, but she couldn't help but worry. She walked through the doors and headed for the elevator. The Doctor was on floor three, and it seemed to take ages before she got there. She stormed into ICU only to remember he had been moved to a Public Ward. She spun around and went back to the receptionist. The Doctor had been admitted as 'John Smith', so she asked for him and was told where he was staying.

It turned out they weren't the only people in the ward. An elderly man was sleeping against the wall opposite and there was another person with the curtains drawn sat at the far end of the room when she entered. She threw the dead flowers in the bin and positioned the new roses in the vase. The Doctor watched her with curiousity. "We're going home soon," she stated as she examined his still bandaged arm. She glanced up and realized their proximity. His eyes were inches away from hers, huge, swirling and endless. They were different. They no longer had that sorrowful glaze to them. Was this what they were like before he lost his species? He smiled and she was brought back to reality, jerking upright. He tilted his head and then stared at her intensely. Unblinking and unwavering. She managed a smile before spinning around and heading back over to the window.

People were walking and running and playing in the park far below. She sighed and leaned against the window sill. "Donna," she turned and saw Grace, followed by Harry, entering with clipboards. "Oh, hello," she wandered back over to the Doctor's bed and sat in the plastic chair beside it. As she gazed around, she noticed the elderly man opposite was awake and watching the scene before him. Grace wrapped her arms around the Doctor's waist and started pulling him off the bed. He made a strange noise – something somewhere between surprise and fear – and he tried to scramble back over to Donna. She gave him a sympathetic look, and hesuddenly looked reminiscent of a kicked puppy as he let Grace drag him to his feet.

Hs legs collapsed beneath him as soon as she let him go completely and he yelped, hitting the bed and then sliding to the floor. He lifted himself into a sitting position, but it obviously used a lot of effort for him. Grace looked concerned as she dropped beside him, but Harry seemed confidant he was fine. Grace ran her hands through his hair, and he winced when she touched the part of his head that had hit the metal railing. Donna had by now had dashed around the bed to make sure he was alright. He gazed up at her woefully. "He could walk before couldn't he?" She asked, confused. "Yes, but he's been bedridden for ten days remember?"  
"Oh, right," Grace pulled him up via his arm and he now seemed to be take his own weight. Almost. He leaned into Grace uncertainly. She took a step forward, but he didn't copy. He stood rooted to the spot, again staring at Donna. "Go on mate, you'll be fine," she encouraged.

He gave the smallest of smiles before taking a step forward. His leg shook and then he fell again, Grace catching him. This was going to be harder than they thought.


	8. Walking Again

It took them almost half an hour. But with constant, gentle coaxing, they managed to get the Doctor to walk – albeit with the help of Grace and Harry – to the room where they would teach him. He was currently sitting on a chair, watching as Harry and Grace talked to Donna. "How long will it take for him to be able to walk again?" Harry and Grace exchanged a glance. "We don't know, it could take weeks," Grace stated, gazing at a clipboard. Donna looked back at the Doctor and found him rummaging through Harry's discarded jacket before returning her attention to the machinery before her. It looked very much like a large treadmill with lots of switches, buttons and dials.

What they were going to do was give the Doctor a pair of crutches and have him walk along the treadmill. But first they were going to teach him how to stand on his own for prolonged periods of time. There was a sudden, high-pitched keening and all three spun around to watch the Doctor cry out in surprise and drop the Sonic Screwdriver as if was a piece of hot metal. As it clattered to the ground, he proceeded to stare at it as if it had just insulted him. Donna couldn't help but laugh at his antics. "He's still a bit like himself at least," Harry smiled slightly, but Grace scoffed. "He's quite a lot like my Doctor,"  
"He isn't like mine," she stated as Harry shrugged. "Mine wasn't quite so utterly mad," they all laughed and then Donna crouched in front of the Doctor. "Alright mate, come on," she then put her arms underneath his and hauled him up. As soon as she let go, he swayed and she quickly took hold of him again. "How are we going to teach him to stand?" Harry held up a walking stick in reply. "He'll have to use this first and then we'll slowly teach him how to stand without it," he then put the stick in the Doctors hand and showed him how to hold it. He took a step back and the Doctor – a little warily – leaned onto the walking stick.

His arm shook slightly as he almost held his entire weight. He smiled at Donna, but the walking stick jerked and he stumbled. All three prepared to catch him, but he righted himself before he fell. They cheered and encouraged him. Even though his mind was seriously damaged, Donna had discovered he still understood encouragement. Did that mean he was recovering, or had that part of his judgment not been affected at all? Unexpectedly the doors swung open and a man strided in. The Doctor swiveled in the direction that the loud noise had come from a little too fast and this time he _did _fall. Harry caught him and gently sat him on the ground. He then proceeded to play with Harry's shoeless curiously. Donna found it amusing, but hid the smile behind a frown.

The man looked to be in his forties, and had a stern face. A young-ish girl, somewhere in her twenties by the look of it, followed behind him tentatively. Her eyes rested on the Doctor and he looked up to gaze at her. She blushed and was suddenly very interested in the clipboard in her hands, his attention subsequently returning to Harry's shoe. The man put his hands on his hips, momentarily glanced at the puddle of Doctor on the floor, and then spoke in a gravelly, irritated voice. "Harry Sullivan, Grace Holloway, what do you think you're doing here?" Harry and Grace exchanged a glance as Donna tapped the Doctor on the shoulder. He smiled up at her and she took his hand, helping him stand up. He wobbled, but managed to stay standing. "Come on mate," she took him over to the chairs and sat beside him, he then stared at her with the blank expression she had grown used to.

Harry squared his shoulders and stood defiantly. "We work here," the man's frown only grew. "Since when?"  
"Does that matter? Anyway, we have a patient who needs looking after," the frown flipped into an ugly grin. The Doctor flinched into Donna's side with a slightly unnerved expression. "I think you'll find the patient belongs to me now,"  
"Excuse me?" Grace gasped, taking a step back, affectively blocking the Doctor from the man's view. "I will, from now on, be looking after this… Boy," he had a sadistic glint in his eyes neither Harry nor Grace liked. "No, you will not. Who gave you the authority to-" Grace started. "Take a look, sweetheart," the man interrupted, flashing a piece of paper in front of them. From what Donna could see it had a lot of writing on it.

Grace refused to move, but Harry, looking dejected, shook his head and she took a step to the left. The Doctor by now was clinging to Donna's arm and she was rubbing soothing circles on his back. "You're coming with me," the man growled, advancing on the Doctor. Finally, Donna cracked and leapt to her feet between them. "He's not going anywhere," he laughed and then simply took her arm and yanked her out of the way. It was then when multiple things happened simultaneously. Donna stumbled; the man took a step forward and the Doctor was suddenly on his feet. He made a noise reminiscent to a snarl and then punched the man in the face. Everyone in the room heard something crack and the Doctor's eyes widened. The man fell to the floor, blood pouring from his broken nose, as the Doctor gasped and started shaking his hand.

His legs buckled and he collapsed in a chair, squeezing his eyes shut in evident pain. For a few seconds no one moved, rooted to the spot with shock. But then the Doctor whimpered and snapped everyone back to reality. No one, not even the man's assistant, moved to his aid. They all turned their attention to the Doctor. Harry and Grace investigated his hand and discovered he'd broken two of his knuckles. "How hard did you hit him?" Grace asked, incredulous. He wouldn't have had the strength or motive to do such a thing on a normal basis, but he had just made breaking someone's nose look like a normal, everyday thing.

He was taken back to the ward and put back in bed, even though he protested weakly. He was ignored and hooked back up the heart monitor. His hand was bandaged and braced and Harry and Grace checked him over for further injuries. When they found none, they left to talk to the authorities about the man who, for all they knew, had malicious intentions and possibly wanted to harm the Doctor. Donna stayed by his bedside, watching him as he stared at the heart monitor dejectedly. "It'll be alright," he smiled weakly and then proceeded to watch a light flicker on the ceiling.

Harry and Grace returned not long after, but decided to – for safety reasons – teach the Doctor in the ward. It turned out the man had been a serial killer, and Donna shuddered to think of what he might have done to the Doctor in his vulnerable state. He wouldn't have been able to tell anyone, he wouldn't have had a chance. She sighed and ran her hands through her hair. There was no point in worrying. He was now locked up and behind bars and completely harmless. They brought the strange treadmill into the ward and started it up. The Doctor didn't know what to do and slipped sideways or backwards a few times before finally walking properly.

He grinned at Donna and she nodded, but her mind was on other things. She was meant to be visiting a friend in two hours, but she still felt uncomfortable leaving the Doctor. Not so much afraid anymore, just uncomfortable. She took out her mobile and dialed Vicki's number. It didn't take long for her to answer. "Donna, hi, what's up?" She could hear laughing and chatter in the background. "I don't think I'm gonna make it, sorry," the Doctor slipped and fell, ending up sprawled on the floor looking slightly dazed, almost as if he didn't know how he had ended up there. Donna laughed at him, and he pouted up at her, feebly waving his walking stick in her direction.

She returned her attention to the phone. "Oh, has something come up?"  
"Sort of," Vicki could tell by Donna's tone of voice. "What's happened?"  
"A… Friend of mine. He was attacked and, and he's got brain damage. I don't want to leave him,"  
"It's alright, I understand. We can reschedule," Donna sighed. "Thanks Vick,"  
"It's Ok; tell me how he is alright?"  
"Sure," she hung up and watched Grace and Harry fuss over the Doctor as he had decided he either couldn't or wouldn't be bothered getting up and didn't even bother helping them get him to his feet again.

The next morning came quickly, and soon Donna found herself lying in bed, the sun shining through the window and warming her face. She turned to her left to see the Doctor still sleeping peacefully. The alarm clock read 7:59am. She didn't usually wake so early. Had something awoken her? She listened carefully to the Doctor's heartbeats and, hearing nothing abnormal, relaxed and slipped out of bed. She was about to leave when she heard light, uncertain footsteps behind her and spun around. The Doctor was out of bed and following her curiously. She smiled and took a step back; he mimicked the action, wobbled a bit and then sat back on the bed.

After breakfast, Donna returned to see the Doctor at the window again, gazing out at the rain. When had it started raining? Her mind was busying itself with so many other things she didn't even notice. He was once again drawing pictures, and once again most were just blobs, except for the TARDIS. He drew a circle around it and then sat back and stared at it. Donna sat beside him and then remembered. "You gave me this," she said, pulling the TARDIS key out of her pocket and showingit to him. He took it tentatively. "It's the key to the TARDIS," he stared at it, tilting it back and forth, watching it shine in the sun, he then reached into his own pocket and took out an identical key before holding them up to the picture. Donna gasped. "You remember."


	9. Going Home

I'm so sorry this took so long! I ended up rushing it though a little so I hope it's not too... Rushed...  
Anyway, enjoy!

I do not own Doctor Who or The Doctor, Donna, Harry and Grace.

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Donna and Grace followed Harry wearily into his office and sat down on the chairs provided. It had been two weeks since The Incident, and the Doctor's rate of recovery had clearly shocked both Harry and Grace. They were having a conversation about it, which Donna was trying and failing to find interesting. Her mind was on other things, as usual. Like how he remembered the TARDIS, who wanted him dead, and why that man had solely targeted the Doctor. "Do you think he's going to regenerate again?" The question shook Donna out of her reverie and she found herself staring at Grace. "He's going to what?" Harry spoke before Grace could explain. "If he was going to, he would done so already,"  
"He didn't regenerate until the night after I operated on him though," she countered. Harry stared down at some papers on his desk with a slightly confused expression. "Yes but… It's been weeks, surely he wouldn't-"  
"He may not have because of his brain, his body wants to but his brain can't tell it to," she interrupted. "Can we stop talking about this?" The two Doctor's turned to Donna.

They both remained silent for a few second, and then Grace's expression softened. "Sure, it must be hard on you to hear us talking about him… You know, dying," she smiled. "How about we talk about how we met him instead?" Harry smiled wryly. "He crashed Donna's wedding apparently," Grace laughed. "Seriously?"  
"Yeah, I thought martian boy had kidnapped me,"  
"What happened?"  
"One second I was walking down the aisle, next thing I'm in his spaceship out in space," she smiled at the memory. "I met the old boy just after he'd regenerated, he was mumbling about spinning mice or something along those lines,"  
"Well, I met him after he'd been shot; he was brought into the emergency room and I had to operate on him. Of cause at the time I didn't know he was an alien with two hearts, and I killed him, basically," Donna tried not to laugh. "The next day I was told a body was stolen from the morgue, I didn't realize it was him when he met me in the elevator because he looked different; I thought he was some kind of madman – he followed me all the way back to my car, so I had no choice but to take him home with me," as Donna listened to this, she got a growing feeling of foreboding.

It was that feeling she used to get when she had to leave the Doctor for any period of time. She thought she'd gotten over it, but apparently not. She squirmed and tried to ignore it as Harry started talking about Sontaran's. "I'm sorry, I've got this really bad feeling about something, I'm going to go check on the Doctor," she hoped she didn't sound too rude, but she just couldn't disregard the horrible feeling. Harry and Grace followed her curiously down the corridors and gazed over her shoulders as she opened the door to the Doctor's ward. He wasn't there. The blanket was on the floor in a messy heap and it looked like the bed had been pushed to the side. Donna's blood went cold. "We have to find him!" She spun around and started sprinting back the way she'd come, Harry and Grace going in separate directions.

Surely he couldn't have gone far. He could still barely stand, little alone walk. She took the stairs two at a time and continued running. She was receiving weird stares from people and doctor's, but she ignored them, suddenly stopping and deciding it was best to tell someone. She went over to a group of three doctor's looking an x-ray of a broken leg. "Can you help me, please?" The two women and one man turned to her, most likely hearing the desperation in her voice. "What appears to be the problem?" One asked calmly. "My friend, he's gone missing, he's got serious brain damage and we've only recently taught him how to walk, he might be hurt or scared and alone and I don't know what to do!" They were suddenly all serious and business-like. "When did he go missing?"  
"I don't know, we just went to his ward to find his bed empty only a few minutes ago,"  
"What does he look like?"  
"Tall-ish, messy brown hair, skinny as a rat; you'll know when it's him because he won't understand you," the man turned to the women. "Alert security," they nodded and hurried off. "Don't worry miss, we'll find him," he then headed off himself.

Harry and Grace entered the room – which turned out to be the waiting room – from two different doors. "Didn't find him," Grace said dejectedly, Harry just sighed and shook his head. "Well I talked to these doctor's and they're gonna alert security," Grace nodded. "Good, but let's keep looking, we might find him before they do," again, they headed off in different directions. Donna no longer ran, instead she walked slowly, keeping her eyes open for any sign of him. She checked every room she passed, explaining to anyone inside who reason for doing so. No one showed any hostility towards her after she reasoned with them, most wished her luck.

After a few minutes of searching she heard an announcement over the loudspeaker. "Attention all staff and security, be on the lookout for a patient in his late thirties, who has gone missing from his ward. If found, please take him to the waiting room," well at least now everyone in the whole hospital knew he was missing. He couldn't have just walked out; someone would have noticed, so he had to still be within the hospital. But he could be anywhere. Donna was really started to panic when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She whirled around to see a girl about 17 with bright red hair and extravagant clothes. "Umm, are you looking for the missing boy?"  
"Yes,"  
"Well, I think I saw him earlier,"  
"Really, where?"  
"He was heading that way," the girl pointed towards a turn-off. "He looked confused, I was going to help but he'd gone by the time I turned back,"  
"Thank you!"

Donna took off, running towards the door at the end of the corridor the girl had mentioned. She hoped she was right. What she found when she opened the door was not what she expected. It was a room with walls painted with bright colours, flowers and mushrooms and things. Toys – and toddlers and children playing with said toys – scattered the room. Two women were looking after them, and they looked up when she entered. Sitting against the wall at the far end of the room was the Doctor. Young children were around him and were waving his walking stick around. One of them was chewing on the TARDIS key and another was fiddling with a pair of 3D glasses. "Doctor!" She ran over to him and he looked up curiously. He grinned and shakily got to his feet. She hugged him and then once she released him she held his hand.

One of the women – a young blonde – was staring at them. "Is he the missing patient?"  
"Yeah," the other girl – who looked a bit older – looked up. "We thought he was; he just walked in and sat down, he was actually looking kind of proud of himself,"  
"Yeah, then we tried talking to him and he didn't respond, so we guessed he couldn't understand English and decided to just let him do what he wanted,"  
"Thank you for taking care of him," they both smiled. "Don't mention it," the Doctor leaned on Donna's shoulder, gazing at her with big, woeful eyes. "Don't worry, I forgive you," she shook him off and he grinned, sitting back down again.

She took out her phone and dialed Harry's number. "Donna?" He sounded out of breath. "Don't worry, I found him,"  
"Where?"  
"I don't know, a very colourful room full of kids,"  
"Ah, I'll be right there," he hung up and she debated over calling Grace, but guessed Harry would tell her. She sat down beside the Doctor and watched as he drew scribbles on a piece of paper with a blue pencil. "You shouldn't worry me like that," she scolded. He looked at her and then back down at the paper, uninterested. "Fine then, ignore me," she threw her hands in the air for emphasis and he smiled.

Grace and Harry entered not long after and were both clearly relieved to see their patient unharmed. They took him back to his ward and put him back in bed. He didn't seem happy about being bedridden again, but complied when they hooked him back up to the heart monitor. "He was meant to be going home with you today," Grace stated. "Maybe he should stay a bit longer," she was obviously concerned. "I don't know, I'd much prefer him wondering around Donna's house than the hospital," Harry argued. "How about he comes home with me for a few days and we see how he goes, if we have to we can take him back here again," Grace still looked uncertain. "You can have daily checkups on him or something," she nodded. "Alright, but let's wait until later, I think we've had enough excitement for a little while."

They had lunch taken to them so they didn't have to leave the Doctor. None of them wanted him unsupervised. He made a face at the food offered to him, but with gentle coaxing ended up eating it eventually. Afterwards, they discussed how they were going to get him back to Donna's, and how the other residents of the house would react. She assured them Wilf would be perfectly fine with living with the Doctor, and that she would convince her mother to let him eventually. Once they had left on their rounds, she took out her phone and called Wilf. "Hey, it's me,"  
"Hello Donna, how are things?"  
"Well, actually, the Doctor's gonna come home today, he's gonna have to live with us for a while,"  
"Oh, that's fine,"  
"What about mum, what's she gonna think?" There was a few seconds of silence. "I'll convince her to let him stay,"  
"Thanks Wilf," the Doctor suddenly grabbed her phone and started waving it around.

"Oi!" She snatched it back. "Sorry about that, he stole the phone," Wilf laughed. "Tell him 'hi' for me,"  
"Sure, see ya later yeah?"  
"Yeah," she hung up and stared at the Doctor. He squirmed awkwardly under her unwavering gaze. She smiled, and he grinned. "We're going home mate."


	10. Revelations and Confessions

Ok guys, here's a nice long chapter to make up for chapter 8's hiatus! Hope you guys like it, and don't forget to R&R.  
Doctor Who belongs to the BBC and whoever else owns it.

* * *

She didn't know what to do. It was her own house, and she had a key, but perhaps it was better to knock. She didn't know what the etiquette was when you brought home an alien with brain damage. He was gazing around him excitedly, and would occasionally start to wander off, to which she quickly grabbed his hand and he stayed put for another few minutes. She could understand – he was in a brand new environment, and his love for exploring had definitely stayed despite everything else being damaged. She eventually decided to knock, and the door was answered by Sylvia. She didn't look particularly happy. "You could have told me earlier," the Doctor tried to hide behind Donna. "I _did _tell you, you just weren't listening,"  
"Was that before you decided to live at the hospital?" She was definitely not happy. "Yes, and I wasn't _living _at the hospital, I was just staying a while until I knew the Doctor was safe and recovering,"  
"I'm not letting that alien just waltz into my house," before Donna could reply, she heard Wilf mutter from the hallway something along the lines of: "Just let them in…"

Sylvia gave the Doctor another disapproving glare before turning and walking wordlessly back inside. "Come on," Donna encouraged, pulling the Doctor inside and closing the door. She took off her coat as he stared to wander down the hall, occasionally spinning in a circle or turning to grin at her. "This is where you're gonna live for a while," he giggled – and there was no way in hell she was going to admit that she found it cute. He turned into the living room as Wilf appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. "Hello Donna," he noticed the rest of the hallway was empty. "Where's the Doctor?"  
"He's in the living room; I'm just letting him find his way around," he nodded as the Doctor walked back in. He grinned at Wilf, who stared at him and then Donna. "He really is different isn't he?"  
"I know," his leg wobbled and he seemed about to fall, but he quickly righted himself. "He can't even walk properly anymore,"  
"Sort of, he's getting there," she took his hand and leaded him into the kitchen.

Sylvia was cleaning dishes and decided to ignore them as they sat at the table, the Doctor still gazing wondrously around him, leaning on his cane. "How long's he been like this?"  
"Ever since he woke up. He seems to be able to interpret certain emotions and actions, and some limited English – I _think _– but it'll be a while before we can reteach him how to talk," by now he was fiddling with a Rubik's Cube that had been left on the bench absentmindedly. After a few minutes it seemed to frustrate him and he threw it away half-heartedly. "Don't throw things," Donna scolded. He looked at her guiltily and sat down in the chair next to her. "How long does he have to stay here?" Sylvia asked, sounding irritated. Donna felt anger beginning to boil inside her. "He doesn't _have _to stay here, but he started wandering around the hospital on his own and we thought it would be safer for him to come live with us,"  
"Why didn't you just let him stay at the hospital?" The anger spilt over and Donna leapt to her feet. "He's got _brain damage _and you don't care? Don't you understand how hard it is to see him sitting there just-just emotionlessly when usually he's running around and spouting all sorts of gibberish? Don't you care that he almost died because I got careless and let him run off in the middle of the night all by himself? I got angry with him, and that's why all of this has happened, I told him to leave me alone and he left and didn't come back," she was breathing heavily, doing everything to not yell. "He said he'd dropped me off to 'run some errands' but you know what? The whole time I knew he was lying, he was upset because of me, it's my fault all of this happened and you _don't care_!"

Tears were clouding her vision by the time she'd finished, and she wiped them away hastily. Nothing moved, shocked into silence. Even the wind seemed to have stopped blowing. She turned wordlessly to see the Doctor leaning away from her, looking afraid. She took his hands and pulled him to his feet, apologizing fervently, telling him she didn't mean to scare him, and leaded him away towards her bedroom. She sat him on her bed and then took out a blow-up mattress, clearing some of the mess on her floor to make room for it. He sat motionless and cross-legged on her bed, there was still fear in his eyes, but his expression had returned to its usual blankness. Once she'd prepared his bed – she didn't like the idea of him sleeping all alone in the living room on the couch – she sat beside him on her own and they stared at each other wordlessly.

She could see the fear dissipating, to be replaced by something else. He leaned closer to her, and she found herself frozen with shock as he reached towards her wiped a tear from her cheek. He almost seemed to realize what he was doing, and dropped his hand, twining his fingers in his lap. "I'm sorry I scared you," he tilted his head and regarded her with curiousity. From what she knew, he could understand when someone was speaking, but didn't know what they were saying. "I got carried away… But it _is _my fault this happened to you," she sighed. "Look at you, you're so… Quiet," she copied what he had done before, touching his cheek – although a bit more carefully in case she frightened him again. "I want you to say something, anything, you're not meant to be quiet, you're meant to be talking all the time so fast I can't understand you," he blinked slowly and then gazed down at the bed. She didn't even know if he was listening, but she felt she needed to continue anyway.

"It's surreal watching you be so different, but every time I look at you I know it's my fault you almost died. I want you to be angry with me, I want you to hate me, but I only see this adoration in your eyes and it… I don't want it," more tears were threatening to spill over, her eyes prickling and her throat constricting. "I don't want this admiration, I want you to hit me, to insult me, to yell at me but I know it's not going to happen because of what I did," she had honestly never said anything like what she was saying. She doubted many other people would willingly be hurt by someone so close to them, but she had hurt him so badly. She had caused him so much pain and then she'd just sat there. For all she knew he'd been tortured because of her stupidity. The Doctor pursed his lips, as if he was deep in thought, and then suddenly leaned forward again, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back until she was resting on his lap. She didn't know what to do, and briefly contemplated struggling out of his grasp, but gave up and rested her head on his chest, letting the tears flow freely for the first time since the night he had been found.

She must have fallen asleep at some point, because she woke up to evening light filtering through her window at an odd angle, She sat back and looked up to see the Doctor had also fallen asleep leaning against the wall. She sighed as the bright light only accentuated how pale he was and threw the bruises into focus. She quietly got off the bed, careful not to disrupt him, and headed into the bathroom. She hadn't had a shower for four days and was in desperate need of one. After she'd redressed she padded into the kitchen to find Wilf reading a book on Astronomy. "Hello Donna,"  
"Hey,"  
"You alright?"  
"I'm…" There was no point lying to Wilf. "No. I'm not," he patted the seat next to his and she sat down heavily. He pushed a mug of hot chocolate towards her and she eyed it suspiciously. "They always used to make you feel better," she laughed. "I know,"  
"Is he alright?" She nodded, taking a sip of the provided drink. "He's asleep,"  
"Ah," she dreaded the answer to the next question. "Where's mum?"  
"She went to get the groceries,"  
"But she did that yesterday didn't she?"  
"I think it was an excuse to get some fresh air and think about her actions,"  
"I shouldn't have yelled at her, it was stupid and careless," she would apologize later. "But that doesn't mean she didn't deserve it," she had no answer to that.

After they'd eaten dinner in silence – after Donna had gently shaken the Doctor awake and coaxed him into eating a full meal – they went to their respective bedrooms. This time the Doctor sat on his blowup mattress, and much to Donna's amusement seemed to find it hilarious to jump up and down on it before flopping onto his back, giggling. It was nothing like him and so very him at the same time. Once Donna had changed into pajamas and helped him into his – usually she would have felt awkward doing anything remotely like changing his clothes, but of course these circumstances were different – she sat under the covers and watched him. He was rolling around under the covers, affectively wrapping himself in them with a joyous expression. He was genuinely laughing after he was all rugged up, and to Donna that was an improvement – before he couldn't make any noise at all – and found herself laughing with him.

After they'd both grown exhausted from the laughter she unwrapped him and draped the blanket over him before switching the light off. She could feel his eyes on her, and after almost ten minutes rolled over so she was on her side and gazed back at him. In the gloom she saw his eyes widen, as if he hadn't expected her to notice him staring, and he quickly closed his eyes. She smiled at his peaceful form, realizing how irrational her breakdown from earlier was and she almost laughed at herself. Sleep eluded her, and she growled in frustration as she sat up to once again check the alarm clock, which now read 2:38am. She doubted she would get any sleep that night, and lay back down, closing her eyes and waiting. She couldn't be quite sure if she'd heard it the first time, but she was sure she heard a quiet moan the second time. She turned to face the Doctor and he whimpered in his sleep, his breathing getting faster. She didn't know what to do, as he hadn't had nightmares in the hospital and opted for waking him up. She crouched beside him and gently shook his shoulder as he began to toss under the covers. He didn't wake, his breathing became ragged, and he whimpered again. "C'mon mate, wake up," she urged, shaking him again. He yelped and his eyes flew open, scrabbling backwards and falling off the bed in his attempt to escape whatever danger had haunted him in his dream.

She remained motionless as he became aware of his surroundings, the fear leaving his eyes and recognition dawning. He whimpered again, even though he knew he was safe, and squeezed his eyes shut, hugging his knees to his chest. "Hey, hey it's alright," she pulled him to his feet, but he tried to get away until she sat him on her bed. He sobbed and then hugged her suddenly, burying his face in her shoulder. She rubbed soothing circles on his back until he had calmed down and he gazed up at her warily. "It's alright, I'm here, you're fine," she found the words cruelly ironic as soon as they left her mouth and she fought back the urge to laugh harshly at them. She went to lie back down, but he remained clinging to her, and she found she didn't want to force him back into his own bed, and let him sleep beside her for the rest of the night.

The next morning, after she'd dressed the Doctor and herself, the Doctor seemed almost embarrassed. He kept running his hands through his hair, and she found it reminded her a lot of him before the incident. Perhaps he was gaining aspects of his old personality, she thought idly as she entered the living room with the Doctor in tow. She was quite surprised to find Sylvia and Wilf and sitting on the couch with two Police Officers opposite. One was a girl, and looked to be in her late twenties, with short dark hair, and a boy who looked a bit older, with white-blonde. They both turned to stare at her when she entered, and she pulled the Doctor behind her almost protectively. What if they were there to take him away? It was stupid and irrational, but she couldn't shake the thought.

"Hello, you must be Donna Noble," the man said in a friendly tone. "Hi," he glanced at the Doctor. "And this must be Mr. Smith," he continued. Of course, he believed the Doctor was called John Smith, as did everyone else she didn't know. "Yes," she didn't want to remain standing in the doorway, so she went over to a separate couch and sat the Doctor down beside her. "I'm Jen, and this is Chris. We're here to talk to you about Mr. Smith's assailant," she felt a sudden sense of foreboding as the girl, Jen, spoke. "We believe it was a gang that had attacked him, and that we may have caught one of them," she took out a heap of papers from her clipboard. "A woman called Niela Fletcher was found to be in the vicinity when Mr. Smith was injured," Donna couldn't believe what she was hearing. It couldn't have been Niela; she wouldn't ever do anything to hurt anyone… But then again, she knew nothing of her past.

She gazed at the papers, and was surprised to find she had no recorded birth certificate or any credentials, no bank statements, the list went on. "Wow, I know Niela, she works where I do,"  
"You hadn't noticed any strange behaviour or anything?" Chris asked, taking a pen and a piece of paper. "No… Well, I don't think so," she tried to remember the conversation she'd had with her when she was getting the Doctor some new flowers. "Well, she _did _seem very intent on knowing when I was taking him home," he made a note as she gave the papers back to Jen. "Another man, James Gorrd, was also in the area at the time," she said as she put the papers in her folder and brought out some more. "He has since been arrested, but was found to have gotten his way into the hospital in which Mr. Smith was being held," Donna remembered 'James' all too vividly, and shuddered at the images his name brought. "He tried to get him, I was there," the pen and paper returned. "He just walked, dressed up like any other doctor in the hospital, and tried to tell us he was to look after the Do- John," she was lucky she'd corrected herself at the last moment. She wasn't used to having to call him John.

More papers were exchanged before a serious atmosphere settled over everyone. "But we cannot arrest either of them under the charge of attempted murder,"  
"Why not?" Wilf asked incredulously. Donna was still trying to get her head around the fact Niela might have tried to kill the Doctor. Chris sighed and continued off from where Jen started. "A gun was found in a nearby dumpster, with Mr. Smith's fingerprints on it," no one responded. Donna turned and stated at the Doctor, who decided to stare back, curious from the sudden attention he was so used to receiving. "With this new information, we are now treating the case as an attempted suicide," Chris continued, looking solemn.

There was a minute's silence. "But you dropped the case," Donna stated, facing him again. "Yes, a civilian who wishes to remain anonymous found the weapon in a dumpster and informed us of it," Donna's shock quickly turned to suspicion. The police would have done a whole sweep of the area; surely they would have found something so glaringly obvious. The suspicion faded, only to be replaced by a crushing guilt. Surely the Doctor wouldn't have tried to… But what if he did? She took a deep breath, fighting back more tears. She didn't want to turn to a blubbering mess in front of two police officers, who were starting to get to their feet. "We will continue the investigation for a further week, tracking the origins of the weapon," Jen must have been trying to sound comforting. "Thanks," was all Donna could say.

Once Wilf and Sylvia had shown out, she sat at the kitchen table, watching the porridge in front of her slowly grow cold. She had suddenly lost her appetite, and opted for watching the Doctor, who was digging into his breakfast with a grin. This was going to be a long day.


	11. Nightmares

I had some serious writers block and couldn't get my ideas in a coherant order when writing this. Thank you so much 2-Hearted-Human and TheOneAndOnlySucessor for helping me figure out what I wanted and Ashena-Iulik for the idea of a dream sequence :D Although I really don't like some aspects of this chapter, some of it I really enjoyed writing. I have mixed feelings towards it.  
Doctor Who belongs to the BBC.

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She caught herself staring at him multiple times throughout the morning, and every time he glanced up and met her eyes she quickly looked away. The guilt from the night before had returned with double strength, and she kept seeing the sickening image of the Doctor shooting himself every time she saw him smirk or laugh. He was wearing the blank, unaware expression less and less, as he grew more accustomed to his new environment. She had grown so used to seeing it, but now he was almost never smiling. She sighed as the Doctor gazed the television, completely entranced by what was quite boringly the news. He grinned and squirmed on the couch before returning to a neutral expression. The scene of him hurting himself. Of him picking up a gun and pointing it at his own chest. Him pulling the trigger and falling to the cobblestones… She was brought back to reality when the Doctor went to grab her hand. She recoiled violently, suddenly feeling worse from his touch, and he pulled his hand back as if he'd been stung, the confusion quickly turning to rejection.

She realized what she had done and enveloped him in a hug. "I'm so sorry," she muttered again and again until he relaxed in her arms. She sat back and he sniffed, running his hands through his hair. It seemed to be something he did whenever he was nervous or distressed. He also seemed to be Donna's venting target. Something to take her anger out on, because he just listened. He knew when the anger wasn't directed at him, and whenever she started yelling he'd just sit and listen and nod whenever they were needed. "Every time you smile I keep seeing you with that gun," she admitted, reaching out carefully to touch his face. He flinched away, but she persisted and he went rigid when she touched him. Was he… Afraid of her? She sighed and let her hand drop, his wary gaze boring into her. "You know what, I need to go shopping," in reality she didn't; she only wanted an excuse to leave the house, suddenly feeling very claustrophobic.

The Doctor stayed two steps behind her, for once not acting like her shadow. Usually she would have welcomed the space, but it felt wrong without him by her side. She was having trouble coming to terms with the fact that she'd actually scared him. She kept glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, and sometimes he'd notice and smile, but it was empty and brittle. She turned and stared at him after she felt his eyes boring into her back for almost five minutes straight and he looked like a deer caught in the headlights. If she hadn't been feeling so guilty, she would have probably found the expression amusing. She left a message for Wilf and Sylvia and then took her handbag, making sure her mobile was there in case she had to call Harry or Grace and headed out.

They walked to town, since Donna decided she _really _needed the exercise. The Doctor marvelled at what the inner city looked like, and stared up at the massive buildings around him as Donna kept a firm grip on his hand. She was glad he no longer shied away from her, and the guilt was slowly ebbing away to be replaced by a giddy excitement. She was taking the Doctor shopping. The mere thought of it made her want to laugh as she pulled him inside a clothes shop. She hadn't checked the name, but some of the dresses were actually quite nice, and she went from dress to dress, the Doctor following obediently. She stopped at a deep blue, silk dress and turned to him. "What do you think?" He made a face, and she nodded. "Yeah, a bit gaudy isn't it?" He grinned and she returned the gesture before moving onto the next dress.

In the back of her mind, she was vaguely away of the two other girls in the shop – one behind the counter and another arranging a dress on a mannequin – eyeing the Doctor with an expression she didn't like, their eyes roaming up an and down his body. She hurriedly left the shop, pulling him along a bit roughly. "Didn't like any of those dresses anyway," she whispered as they left. She took him into a tailor shop, since he's old suit hadn't exactly been in any condition for him wear, and went up to the counter, letting the Doctor walk around and look at the different suits. She told the man behind the desk about his old brown pinstripe suit and asked if he had any. He nodded fervently and showed her to a backroom, the Doctor following behind once he noticed Donna walking off.

The man didn't question her, even when the Doctor stumbled away when he went to take his measurements, and she found she respected him for that. He remained calm as Donna took his hand, reassuring him of his safety, and then started taking his measurements. Afterwards, he told them to return in about a week and that they'd hold his suit for him. She thanked him and then left, explaining to the Doctor that she believed it was time for lunch. He nodded fervently, so they headed into the food caught and bought themselves some ice-cream. In Donna's mind, they had earned it. They sat at a table, eating in silence for a longer time than she would have thought. "You know what, you _really _need new clothes," he had his eyes closed, and didn't respond as she took his attire into account.

A plain white button-up shirt and some baggy jeans. They seemed so out of place on him, but there was nothing else he could wear. He opened an eye lazily after a few minutes of staring and she smiled. He seemed about to copy her, but let his head loll back against the chair and closed his eye again. All the excitement must have been wearing him out, so she decided it was time to return home, gently nudging him and then hauling him to his feet. He stumbled along behind her, asleep on his feet, and once they got back to her house he collapsed onto her bed, unconscious by the time he hit the pillow. She grinned and then took out her mobile, snapping a photo before closing the door behind her. She sent it to both Harry and Grace, telling them about his long day. Their responses clearly showed how amused they were by the image. She almost didn't want to move him when the time came to go to bed, since he'd slept through the whole afternoon; she doubted he'd sleep anyway. But when she nudged him awake and dumped him onto his air mattress, he was asleep again before she'd changed into her pyjamas. She hoped he wasn't going to have another nightmare as she settled into bed and switched the light off.

She opened her eyes to find it still dark. She was confused; since she'd been sure she was going to get a good night's sleep. Sighing and rubbing her eyes, she leaned over the edge of the bed to check on the Doctor, only to find him missing. She leapt out of bed, a cold dread settling into the pit of her stomach as she yanked the door open. It was so dark she could see nothing beyond the tiny circle of light her alarm clock gave off. She could hear far away whispers. _Donna… Save me… Find me… _She saw him standing at the end of the hallway once her eyes adjusted, instead of wearing his white shirt and jeans; he was wearing his pinstripe suit. She was confused at first, but relieved to find him Ok. "What are you doing out here?" She asked, the whispers growing more urgent. _Wait for me… Donna… _He just tilted his head, so she took a step closer, but the hallway seemed to grow longer. She tried again, but she wasn't getting any closer to him. She started to panic, beginning to run, but nothing was happening. His faced changed, he looked scared and hurt and alone. "Help me," he begged before collapsing, blood spilling from his head and chest as his clothes became torn and-

Donna jerked awake, sitting bolt upright in bed. She was gasping and doubled over, trying to regain control of her wild thoughts. It had just been a dream. She leaned over the side of the bed hastily, and found the Doctor lying on his side, his face buried in his pillow and she sighed, lying back and running her hands through her hair. She had never really had nightmares before, and the vivid image of the Doctor so… Hurt, haunted her mind. She leapt out of bed, seeing that it was almost five in the morning, and headed outside and up the hill. Wilf was sitting with his telescope, gazing at the stars, and she sat beside him, instead of following his gaze she instead looked at the TARDIS. It sat in the garden, underneath a large tree, and she stood up, walking over to it, running her hand across the cool, blue wood.

She leaned against the door; resting her head on it for a few seconds before deciding it was best to return to the Doctor, in case he woke up. When she got back, he was sitting up in bed, staring at her bed as if she would just magically appear. "I'm over here mate," he spun around, eyes wide and body rigid with shock. He relaxed and wobbled to his feet, almost throwing himself at her. She laughed and caught him. He was grinning like an idiot when she put him back on the ground and he giggled, starting to roll himself up in the blanket again. She rolled her eyes and went back to bed, the lack of sleep starting to add up.

Late next morning, there was a knock on the door. The Doctor had never heard the noise before – or not in his brain damaged state anyway – and looked wary of it. "Don't worry," she said, getting to her feet to go and answer it. She surprised to find Harry, but nor Grace, and he looked nervous. "Harry?"  
"Donna… There's something I need to tell you," he sounded serious, so she quickly let him inside and he sat on a couch in the living room. The Doctor seemed happy to see him, obviously not understanding the grave situation. Donna sat beside him, opposite Harry, and took his hand, a feeling of foreboding settling over her. She'd already been given horrible information from the police – she'd been told the Doctor may have tried to kill himself – this couldn't possibly be any worse. "Um, the police came over yesterday," he looked startled. "They did?"  
"Yes… They said…" She took a deep breath. "They said they found a gun in a dumpster with his fingerprints on it," Harry stared at her wordlessly. "He didn't…?"  
"I don't know. I hope not, but that's what they think happened…"

He stared at the ground. "Donna, I don't believe he did that,"  
"Why not?" He continued to avert her gaze. "I didn't want to tell you, but I feel now as if I've done you a wrong,"  
"What is it?"  
"The Doctor… When he first came into the hospital, we did many extensive tests for alcohol and drugs,"  
"I knew that,"  
"We told you we found nothing," she couldn't think of a reply. "We lied," after getting no response, he decided to continue. "We found an unidentifiable drug in his system," that couldn't be good.

Harry sighed. "There was a lot of it, more than what could possibly be safe,"  
"So he was drugged?"  
"Yes, it appears so," she wondered what that meant. That 'innocent bystander' was starting to look less and less innocent. "I think someone's trying to make it look like suicide," he nodded. "I'd say so," the Doctor was frowning when Donna glanced at him; it was an expression she hadn't seen on him for a long time. "You alright mate?" He just stared at her blankly so she dismissed it. "Why isn't Grace here?"  
"A relative of hers has died and she's attending their funeral," Donna tried not to find something suspicious in that. She decided to change the subject. "You know what you said about teaching him to talk again?"  
"Yes?"  
"How are you going to do that?"  
"Well, it depends, he'll have to attend speech therapy,"  
"Oh," he pointed in the Doctor's direction. "Do you mind?"  
"Of course not," he got to his feet and they took the Doctor to Donna's room for a check-up.

While he was busy, Donna made tea for the three of them. She was cleaning up when Sylvia walked in. She hadn't spoken to her since her rant, and that only added to the pile of guilt. She sat at the table and watched her clean up. "I'm sorry," she gazed at her for a long while. "For what?"  
"For yelling at you,"  
"No… You're right, I'm being too harsh," she tried to hide her surprise as Harry returned, tugging a reluctant Doctor behind him. "Is he alright?" He didn't usually resist being taken somewhere. "Yes, actually, there's been a vast improvement since he left the hospital,"  
"Great,"  
"I believe aspects of his personality may be returning now," he continued. Perhaps that explained his strange behaviour.

He sat him at the table, but refused the tea. "Sorry Donna, gotta dash,"  
"Oh," she got to her feet again and showed him out as the Doctor ignored his own given tea and walked off. "Oi!" She called after him as he headed for her bedroom. She sighed, shrugged at her mother and then followed him. When she found him, he was sitting on her bed, gazing out the window unblinkingly. She sat beside him and he turned to face her, a look of pure concentration lacing his features. She waited patiently, but what happened next was very unexpected. "D… On… Na."

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Also, I may change the name of this chapter later sometime because I don't think it fits completely.


	12. Talking Again

This is probably one of my favourite chapters, I hope you guys like it too! :D

Doctor Who belongs to the BBC

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At first Donna thought she was hearing things. "Excuse me?"  
"Don… Na," he repeated, his face scrunching up in concentration. She fumbled for her phone, imagining Harry's surprise when he got a call only minutes after he left. She remembered him explaining that if his brain was under too much stress, there was still the possibility that it could shut down. She was hoping that wasn't going to happen. "... Yes?"  
"He's talking,"  
"I beg your pardon?"  
"He's talking, Harry he's actually talking," there was a few seconds of silence. "I'm on my way, I'll see if Grace can make it," he hung up before she could say anything else and she returned to watching the Doctor.

He'd fallen silent and was staring at her intently. She pointed to herself. "Donna,"  
"Don... Na," he repeated in a small, hoarse voice, tilting his head and continuing to stare. She pointed at him and he turned to stare at himself. "Doctor," he remained silent, simply gazing back up at her again. "Doctor," he still didn't reply. She made a face and he laughed. Hearing him laugh – properly laugh – was still a new experience. The door opened suddenly, making them both jump, and Wilf poked his head in. "Donna, your mother and I are going out for lunch, are you Ok with that?"  
"Of course, go have a good time," he nodded wordlessly and left, closing the door behind him.

Donna turned back to the Doctor, and he was still staring at her. "Donna," he stated. She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, I'm Donna; you're the Doctor," he narrowed his eyes. "Doctar,"  
"No, 'tor', Doc_tor_," he raised an eyebrow with an almost sceptical expression and she laughed. "That's so much like you used to-... Oh my god Harry's right, you're getting your old personality back," he pouted, and then suddenly sat upright, staring at the door. Had he heard something? She followed his gaze, to hear the doorbell ring a multitude of times. She scrambled to her feet, hurrying to see how much he'd improved, and he hastily followed, only to slip and hit his head on the side of the bed.

He groaned and sat up again, rubbing his head. Donna quickly answered the door and hurried back to him. "He hit his head," she explained as they filed inside. "He seems to be doing that a lot lately," Harry stated. He then saw the Doctor and crouched beside his head, running his hands through his hair to find the wound. He whined loudly and groped at the floor near Donna, so he stopped as he crawled over to her, wrapping his arms around her legs and clinging to her. "Hey, it's alright, it's alright," she sat beside him and he hugged her, burying his face in her shoulder as Harry continued to examine his head. "From what I can see, it's not too serious,"  
"You're sure?" he glanced at her reassuringly before getting out a cloth and wiping the blood from the Doctor's head. "Don't worry; he's going to be fine, wait you said he was talking!" She nodded and sat the Doctor on the bed and he continued to cling to her, but she took his head in her hands and forced him to sit back. "Donna," he stared at her blankly for a few seconds and then repeated. "Donna," he sounded a lot more confidant now. Harry sat on his other side, looking incredulous. Grace remained crouching in front of him.

"Do that again," Harry said as Grace left to clean the now blood-stained cloth. Donna grinned and turned back to the Doctor. "Donna,"  
"Donna," Harry gazed back and forth between the two. "Unfortunately, he can't properly pronounce his own name though," the Doctor narrowed his eyes. "Doc... Tar,"  
"Tor, Doc_tor_," he wasn't listening to her. "He should need speech therapy, he shouldn't be able to talk,"  
"Yeah, you said that about walking too."

Harry and Grace got him to repeat 'Donna' a few more times and wrote things down on clipboards. Donna sat in a chair and watched them as they worked, checking him over and finishing cleaning the wound on his head. "Can he say anything else?" Grace asked as they worked. "I don't think so; he can _try _to say his own name, but it never comes out right," she turned to him. "Doctor," he squirmed as Harry continued to wipe his head with gauze. "Doctar," Grace giggled and Harry smiled, shaking his head. "He sounds ridiculous," he stated, leaning back to examine his handy work. "What happened exactly?" Grace asked as they packed away their things. "He fell off the bed."

The Doctor persistently repeated 'Donna' whenever it popped up in a conversation and was starting to say his own name whenever he felt like it. He still couldn't pronounce it correctly but that obviously didn't faze him. They tried vainly to get him to say other words, but he just stared at them, so they gave up on that idea. Donna told them about how he was beginning to act like himself in certain ways and they were ecstatic from the discovery. "Donna," she turned to him and he narrowed his eyes at her, pouting. "Yes?" She found the expression highly amusing, and suppressed the urge to laugh. "TARDIS," Harry dropped the mug he'd been holding and Grace turned to stare at him. "What?" She asked, he didn't move or respond for a few seconds. "Donna n' TARDIS,"  
"Donna and TARDIS?" He nodded fervently. Donna and TARDIS. Did he remember them, or were they just words he could recall?

The rest of the week passed in a blur, with Harry and Grace staying for most of each day, trying to get the Doctor to keep talking and learn new words, but he was stubborn and refused to listen to them. Donna was so caught up in the haze of excitement she almost forgot to pick up the Doctor's new suit. It had been raining during the morning she wanted to leave, and she thought she wasn't going to be able to go, but it lightened up and then stopped completely late afternoon. It was still grey and cold, but at least it wasn't wet. She took the Doctor's hand and dragged him down the street, hoping to get back before it started raining again. They turned into the shop and she took him up to the counter, telling the cashier that they had ordered a suit. He wasn't the man from before, but he didn't ask any questions as they put it on him.

It made him look so much like himself. He grinned and twirled in front of the full-length mirror while Donna payed the cashier. "You look dashing," he laughed and they left the shop. She didn't exactly feel like returning home yet, so she decided to take him out for tea. She invited Harry and Grace and they arranged to meet at a restaurant at 6:00pm. She decided to brush her hair and put it up in a messy bun as she waited for them to arrive. They were sitting on a park bench, the Doctor crossing and then uncrossing his legs, then twining his hands in his lap and then crossing his legs again. Something was making him nervous.

She was going to ask when Harry and Grace arrived. They too had gotten dressed up for the occasion and they all entered the restaurant together. It was gaudy and almost everything was covered in rich red velvet. Donna would have enjoyed the experience more if the deep crimson hadn't reminded her of blood. They sat down at their table and started discussing the menu, the Doctor's previous anxiousness already forgotten. She wondered whether he could read yet and, just in case he couldn't, ordered for him. She was going to share some kind of exotic pasta with him, while Harry had battered fish and Grace ordered a salad of some sort. She wasn't exactly paying attention to them; instead she was having another staring contest with the Doctor. He always ended up laughing after about a minute.

They ordered a bottle of wine and a jug of water as well as a basket of bread sticks while they waited for their meals. The Doctor was leaning on Donna's shoulder, staring blankly at nothing, when their drinks arrived. The wine was apparently imported from some faraway place and it there was limited stock, it was therefore expensive, and they expected it to be worth the cost. They poured themselves glasses and Donna handed the Doctor hers. He sniffed it and then held it away from him, looking disgusted, but Donna told him to drink it, or to at least try it, before shunning it. He made a face at her, but did as he was told and drank the whole glass. He hiccupped and laughed, Donna hoping it didn't take just one glass to get him drunk.

She decided for him to have water for the rest of night, just in case, and they'd all had at least three glasses by the time their food arrived. They ate in almost complete silence, and it had been about half an hour when Donna noticed the Doctor's edginess had returned. He was glancing around him, the slightest noise making him whirl around. "Doctor, you alright?" She asked, he only winced and closed his eyes, resting on her shoulder again. Harry got to his feet and then crouched beside him, taking his wrist and putting his hand on his forehead. He frowned as the Doctor began to lean into his hand and then put his fingers to his neck. "Is he alright?"  
"No, his heartbeat's a bit slow and he's got a slight fever," the Doctor had never been sick before, and she didn't exactly know if it was some kind of crazy alien illness or something they could actually treat.

Grace by now was also crouched beside him. She, too, checked his temperature and pulse and murmured something quietly to herself. "Doctor?" She asked gently, he only winced again and then groaned, his eyes still closed as he continued to rest on Donna. "Should we take him home?" She asked as Harry and Grace tried to get him to sit up properly. "Is everything alright here?" Came the heavy French accent of their waiter, who was hovering nearby nervously. "Oh, he's just had a bit much to drink," Harry replied without even pausing to think. The Doctor struggled weakly when they got him to his feet, trying desperately to cling to Donna, but he allowed them to drag him outside. He went limp halfway to the sidewalk, but they managed to catch him before he hit the ground, and they gently lay him on the cold concrete, the two doctor's checking him over nervously. "Maybe it was the wine," Grace suggested, even though she clearly didn't believe the suggestion herself.

Harry was shaking his head before she'd even finished. "One glass of wine won't cause a fever or fainting,"  
"He's an alien," she stated. He blinked a few times, as if that only just occurred to him. "Oh, right," he was yet to wake, but they decided to relax, as his health hadn't declined since he was inside the restaurant. Some passers-by noticed his prone form and asked if he was alright, and Harry gave them the same reply. It was easy to assume that he was passed-out-drunk, lying on the ground pale and unmoving, but for all they knew it was much worse. He groaned after a while and Donna rested his head in her lap as he opened his eyes slowly. He saw her and smiled weakly before groaning again and closing his eyes. Grace put her hand on his forehead again and frowned. "The fever's getting worse," Donna didn't want to know that.

Harry and Grace debated over taking him back to hospital when Donna started stroking his hair absentmindedly. She caught herself doing it and was about to stop, but the Doctor was slowly starting to relax, the pain fading from his face. He opened his eyes again and she smiled at him as he stared at her. "You're gonna be fine," he looked away, glancing at Harry and Grace and then at the sky. The stars were out, and Donna followed his gaze, memories good and bad raging inside her head. "You know what, once you're good again you've got to take me to some hostile alien planet and then you're gonna anger the natives somehow and we'll end up running," he remained silent and motionless, but he was obviously listening. "I always wanted to stop running, I wanted us to take a break for a while and to just stay in the one place," she looked down at him again. "You know what, I don't want that… I don't want to stop running; I don't want to stop if it means seeing you like this. I want to keep running away with you," she smiled wistfully. "My martian boy… Allons-y," he tilted his head and smiled, as if he recognised the word. What if he did?

That thought was one she liked, and only then did she realise how sad she'd just made herself. Harry and Grace had stopped listening to give them some privacy, and she respected them for that as they returned from wherever they'd been. They must have seen the tears threatening to fill her eyes, for they gazed at her sympathetically and sat beside her with medical kits. A group of people walked past, eyeing them strangely, and Donna thought she heard one of them say something about an ambulance. It was a different part of the conversation that caught the Doctor's attention though. "… Yeah, this new chick, what's her name, Susan isn't it?" The Doctor suddenly sat up, but moaned quietly and fell back again, Donna recommencing stroking his hair. She'd heard the Doctor mention someone called Susan before, and he recognised the name. Was he remembering aspects of his life? She looked back down at him again and he seemed to be asleep, or unconscious again. She wanted him back. She wanted the Doctor back more than she thought she ever would. But this was Ok for now.


	13. Alien Encounter

Thanks for waiting guys, and I'm sorry for taking so long!  
Again, I got stuck on this chapter and completely rewrote it. I hope you guys like it!

(And I know... Generic title is generic and uncreative...)

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Harry and Grace – after a short argument – decided to take the Doctor back to hospital when his condition began to get worse. They arranged for an ambulance to pick him up, as the Doctor began muttering – not words exactly, just strange mumbles except for 'Donna', which he said every few minutes – and squirming in Donna's grasp. The fever was only getting worse and Donna started feeling the fear that hadn't plagued her since he was in hospital. There was no reason for him to be sick, and the only thing her mind came to was the wine. He had only had one glass, surely it couldn't have… He wasn't having an allergic reaction according to Harry and Grace, so what else could it be? Suddenly Grace was handing her a thermometer, bringing her out of her thoughts. "Put it under his tongue," she instructed as the ambulance pulled up.

A crowd was quickly gathering, and Donna frowned in their direction before doing as instructed. The Doctor complained loudly and tried to turn his head away, but Donna held him still as the thermometer beeped and she read the numbers on the little screen. Harry appeared by her side and checked the Doctor's pulse again. "What does it say?"  
"Forty-two," he growled in frustration as a group of medics started arranging medical equipment. "Is that bad?" Last time she checked, forty-two wasn't dangerouslyhigh. "His body temperature is a good fifteen degrees lower than ours,"  
"Oh," she hadn't known that. "Hot," it was the first new word she'd heard him say. "I know mate," she started stroking his hair again in an attempt to calm him down when he only moaned in obvious pain.

Grace sat beside her as Harry talked to the medics. "Grace, I know it's just a gut feeling, but I really think it was the wine," she nodded. "So do I,"  
"Harry won't believe it though,"  
"No," she knew it was the wine, in fact she was sure of it. How it could cause such a reaction in him she didn't know. They got the Doctor in the ambulance after he refused a while and put him in a private room. Harry believed he may have been drugged again, and Grace was grim when the results came back. "Look at this," she demanded, thrusting the paper into Donna's hands. It read 'Positive – Unknown'. "What's it mean?"  
"It means our unknown drug has made a reappearance," Donna leapt off the end of the Doctor's bed, which she had previously been sitting on, and sat in a plastic chair, Grace deciding to sit beside her. "It couldn't have been the wine or we would have been drugged too," she stated, watching the unconscious Doctor's steady breathing.

Donna had been watching him earlier, until she remembered him having a heart attack and she had to look away, shuddering at the horrible memory. "If it wasn't the wine then what was it?" She asked. "Well from what I can tell he was slowly being dosed all evening,"  
"But how?" They shared both the now proven innocent wine and pasta, so what else could it have been? The only thing that he'd had that she hadn't was… "The water!" Grace jumped at Donna's sudden outburst. "The only thing the Doctor had that I didn't was the water and he was drinking it all evening," realisation dawned on Grace's face as a feeble "Donna" came from the Doctor. She quickly went over to him and sat on the bed beside him, taking hold of his hand. "… _Hot_…"  
"I know mate, we're gonna get your temperature back down again," he coughed a few times in response as Harry walked in with a cold compress.

He put it on his forehead and the Doctor seemed to calm down somewhat. "The drug appears to be leaving his system, but I've got a sample of his blood for analysis," Donna didn't quite like the idea of his blood being inspected, but she remained silent. "How long until he gets better?" He shrugged. "I can't be sure, but it should take an hour at the most," Grace had remained silent throughout the exchange. "I found a list of the people that work at that restaurant," she held it out to Donna, and one of the names was circled. "The police informed us of possible subjects, and this is name kind of jumped out at me when I read the list," circled, out of a long list of random names, was 'Neila Fletcher'. Donna mustn't have been paying attention to how her name was spelt before, but now that it was on paper. "Her name backwards is alien," she stated, getting out a pen and writing her name backwards on the paper before showing it to the two doctors'. They were nodding and muttering to themselves, so she returned her attention to the Doctor.

He seemed to be asleep, as he'd stopped moving and making noise. They arranged a meeting with the two police officers they'd met and they gathered in Harry's office. "What appears to be the problem?" The man whose name Donna had forgotten asked. "Earlier tonight the-… Mr. Smith was drugged, and we discovered that Neila Smith worked at the restaurant in which this happened," Harry explained as they both wrote some things down. "Did you see Ms. Fletcher?"  
"No, but we believe she was the one who drugged Mr. Smith,"  
"Thank you for this information," the girl said as she rose. "We'll look into this further," and then they left and there was nothing for them to do but sit and wait.

When the Doctor next woke up, he didn't complain about it being hot and started whining when he realised he was back in a hospital bed, obvious signs that he had recovered, so they took him home again and he dozed on the couch as Donna prepared tea for everyone. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately. "So, what did you know about Neila before this?" Grace asked as she stared at the cup in her hands. "That she _seemed _to be a normal twenty-year old person who ended up working with me,"  
"Nothing else?"  
"Well, she seemed pretty keen on knowing when the Doctor was-" the doorbell rang and she fell silent. It wouldn't be Wilf or Sylvia, and she didn't have anything arranged with anyone. She got to her feet and answered the front door, Grace and Harry hovering behind her.

The door opened to reveal Neila hopping from foot-to-foot nervously. "Um, hello," she stated, waving even though she was less than a few feet from Donna, who was trying to look welcoming. "Hi Neila, what do you need?" How did she get her address? "Oh, um, I saw you and your friend on the news and I was wondering if you guys were Ok," strange. She hadn't seen any reporters or film crews, but she decided to play along. "Oh, yeah, it was John, he was drugged by someone in the restaurant,"  
"That's terrible!"  
"Donna!" Donna rolled her eyes. It seemed the Doctor was now awake.

She motioned for Neila to come inside before heading back to the living room, where Harry and Grace had departed to only a little while earlier. The Doctor was no longer lying on the couch, but was sitting up and he stared at her when she entered. "Yes?" He turned to gaze at the empty couch beside him and she sighed, sitting beside him. He grinned and then lay back down, resting his head in her lap, looking victorious. She frowned at him. "You know what mate? When you get your memory back this ain't gonna happen again," he pouted and Neila giggled, Donna having momentarily forgotten about her. "Are you two a couple?" She asked, pointing at the two of them. "No, we definitely _are not_," the Doctor shook his head in an imitation of Donna and she slapped his arm. He just laughed in response and pressed his lips together tightly when she frowned at him. He laughed again as soon as she looked away.

As Harry and Grace struck up a conversation with Neila, Donna put her hand to the Doctor's forehead. It had evidently cooled to a better temperature, but it was still a bit warmer than usual. "Harry, he's still a bit warm," she said, removing her hand as the Doctor turned his head away. Harry got to his feet, nodding. "I'll get the ice pack from the freezer,"  
"Thanks," he headed into the kitchen and after a few seconds Grace and Neila followed him. The Doctor's eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply, almost clinging to Donna in his sleep. She smiled at him and dialled the police on her mobile.

The male officer she couldn't remember the name of answered. "Donna, is anything wrong?"  
"Yeah, Neila's in my house," there was a few seconds of silence. "Has she done anything dangerous, is she armed?"  
"I don't know, but she somehow got a hold of my address and said she saw us on the news when the Doctor was drugged again, but I didn't see any reporters or anything,"  
"The Doctor?" Whoops. "Oh, John, he's a Doctor,"  
"Ah. Keep an eye on her and call me back if anything happens,"  
"Yep," she hung up just as the trio returned with the ice and more tea.

Neila sat on the floor beside the coffee table as Harry and Grace offered to make sandwiches. They headed for the kitchen, leaving Donna alone with Neila. She suddenly felt nervous, and the Doctor opened his eyes to stare curiously at her. Neila drank her tea slowly and then got to her feet afterwards, sighing. Donna found she was leaning over the Doctor protectively and tried to sit back and look oblivious to any oncoming danger. "I'm sorry Donna, I really didn't want it to come to this," Neila said as she took an alien-looking gun from her pocket, she then proceeded to inspect it.

She turned to Donna, who was pushing the Doctor into a sitting position. His expression showed he had no idea what was going on. "Neila-"  
"It's not Neila," Donna glanced at the doorway to the kitchen. "Then what is it?"  
"Why would you want to know?" Neila asked as Donna got to her feet warily. "Curious?" Neila frowned. "Look, I don't have time for this," and then there was a flash and a bang and Donna heard the Doctor yell something and then suddenly he was in front of her and then his eyes rolled back and he was falling. She caught him before he hit the ground and Neila sighed dramatically. "That was my only shot," she stated, returning to inspecting her gun.

Donna gently laid the Doctor on the couch and turned to her, no longer fearing her, even if she was a deadly alien. "What have you done to him?"  
"Don't worry, it was a simple blast to shut down his brain, even though it was aimed for you,"  
"You tried to kill him," Neila blinked, her face going blank. "I what?"  
"It was you wasn't it?"  
"I didn't try to kill him, they wanted him alive!" She covered her mouth. "Oops,"  
"They? Who?" The gun was at her head again. An empty threat. "Shut up, I'm not telling you anything,"  
"I'm not scared by your toy gun," Neila growled. It sounded wrong coming from what appeared to be the human in front of her.

She glanced at the doorway again and she saw Harry hiding. He put a finger to his lips and pointed at Neila, who was facing away from him, and then at a vase in his hands. "Look, you're just a human, even if I didn't have a weapon, I'd still crush you easily, and you're alien friend,"  
"Touch my martian boy and I'll kill you," she must have sounded as serious as she had hoped in the current situation, because Neila wavered, indecision showing on her features. "You wouldn't kill me, what would he think?"  
"He doesn't need to know," the gun lowered slightly. "You would kill me... For him?"  
"Without a second thought," the anger turned to confusion, and the gun fell to her side.

"After putting you in danger every time you step into his machine you would still risk your life for him, even though he does so every second you are with him?"  
"Yes, is that such a big surprise?"  
"That is why you stayed at the hospital with him, that is why you began to panic when he wondered off, that is why you took him home against your mothers wishes,"  
"Yes, because I love him – God I hope he doesn't hear this – I love him, not how people often think, he's my best friend, and I know he would do anything for me, and yes, I would die for him, because he could still live on and save millions, billions of people who need him," this display of emotion had visibly shocked Neila.

She was staring astoundingly at her. "But look at what happens when you stay with him; I was told to kill you!"  
"Then kill me!" She lifted the gun again, but lowered it after a second. "I... Cannot,"  
"Why not?"  
"I was told that you're just a human he takes with him to show off, that he travels with you just so he could be looked up to, to be admired, but it seems I have been misinformed," the Adrenaline was still coursing through her veins and she still wanted to bolt, but Donna held her ground as Neila turned away. "I will not kill you, and I will not take the Doctor captive," she started to leave, but Donna grabbed her arm. "Wait, who are you working for, who told you to do this?" She pulled her arm free and continued walking. "I don't know," and then she closed the front door behind her and she was gone.

Donna remained where she was, unsure of what had just happened, as Harry and Grace appeared at her sides. "What just happened?" Grace asked, glancing at Donna with that 'I'm going into doctor mode and am going to look after you whether you like it or not' face. "I was threatened by an alien, and then that alien walked off," she took Donna's arm as she was speaking and dragged her back to the couch, where they only then seemed to notice the Doctor's prone form. "What happened to him?" Harry asked as he checked his pulse. "I don't know, what's-her-face said she shut down his brain," he visibly relaxed. "Oh, don't worry; he'll wake up in a few minutes."

The trio scattered themselves around the room and Donna sat by the Doctor's head, running her hands through his hair in an attempt to perhaps awaken him. No one talked, sitting in silence, dwelling over the past few happenings. The Doctor had been drugged again, and the alien that had quite possibly drugged him had turned up at her house and tried to kill her and kidnap him while he was drugged, that alien then left after Donna made an emotional speech. The Doctor groaned, snapping Donna out of her thoughts. He mumbled something unintelligible before opening his eyes. "Hey mate," he just groaned again and rubbed his eyes blearily. "Though I'd mention," Harry said, drinking from yet another cup of tea. "He's gonna have one hell of a headache."

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The next chapter's the one where it gets a bit T rated...


	14. Torture

NINE PAGES. MY POOR HANDS :(

Yeah, this chapter is a bit... Not quite so good. Please, if you don't want to read this chapter, then you don't have to.

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Donna had been informed of the Doctor's painkiller allergy, so he just had to wait out the pain. He complained loudly whenever anyone came into view and looked like a kicked puppy when they didn't help him. It wasn't like they didn't want to, they just didn't know how. After about an hour he calmed down, sleeping restlessly on the couch until the afternoon, where Donna took him into her bedroom. He sat on his blow-up mattress and gazed at her with mild interest, half of his attention on her and the other half on his pillow, for which Donna had made a custom TARDIS cover. "You feeling better?" He nodded, and she smiled to herself. He was beginning to understand what they were saying almost all the time.

It was a big improvement, yet he didn't talk very much himself. Harry always said to just 'give him time' but it seemed he was running out of it. Neila had been working for someone, if only she'd said who they were, or given her some clue as to where they were hiding. "Doctor," he blinked and then tilted his head. "Doctor,"  
"Good!" She felt like she was talking to a small child, not an alien. "Donna,"  
"Yes?"  
"Donna and Doctor," she smiled and he grinned. "Yes, Donna and the Doctor," he fell silent for a few seconds. "Donna?" She turned to him again. "Hm?"  
"TARDIS," she tried to hide her surprise. "What about it?"  
"See TARDIS,"  
"Not right now," he frowned, but didn't press further.

Harry and Grace left not long after her Sylvia and Wilf returned and they spent the rest of the evening watching TV. The Doctor gazed around him anxiously and kept poking Donna's arm until it went numb and she swatted his hand away. She vaguely remembered that he had been feeling this anxiousness before entering the restaurant. After her mother and Wilf went to bed, she remained on the couch with the Doctor leaning into her side, half watching television and half daydreaming. "What are you thinking about?" Donna asked as some cop show came on. He shrugged and started staring at the lamp beside him as it flickered. "You don't know?" He shrugged again, a jerky, nervous movement.

She glanced at him as the lamp made a loud bang and they were plunged into darkness. The Doctor yelped and leapt to his feet, spinning around and gazing accusingly at the lamp. Wilf – clad in a nightgown and slippers – appeared in the doorway holding a torch. "What in the world was that?"  
"The light bulb blew,"  
"Oh, you should probably go to bed, it's almost midnight," he motioned with the torch at the clock on the wall before shuffling off. "Come on mate," Donna took the Doctor's hand and towed him to her bedroom, dropping him onto his bed and changing into pyjamas. The Doctor sat atop the blankets and watched her as she got into bed. "Night martian boy," he didn't respond, so she sat up. "Are you going to go to sleep or what?" He made a face and lay back, but still didn't close his eyes. Perhaps he just didn't feel like sleeping...

Donna awoke three times throughout the night, only to find the Doctor still awake each time. At half-past six she found she couldn't go back to sleep, so she got dressed nicely and put up her hair – she was going out for lunch with Vicki to make up for declining last time – and headed into the kitchen, the Doctor following her every step. She found a bunch of letters on the table, and discovered one addressed to her. It was a deep blue that reminded her greatly of the TARDIS, and written in silver ink was her name. "Hmm," the Doctor gazed over her shoulder impatiently as she slowly picked it up and turned it over, opening it and taking out the rich, thick parchment within. She opened the folded paper and, written in intricate handwriting was a set of seemingly random numbers and 'good luck'. She turned it over multiple times, but that was all that was written. "Well, that's informative," she stated sarcastically as she put it back on the table and prepared her breakfast.

The Doctor picked up the paper as soon as she was busy and tipped it sideways, then upside-down before making a triumphant yell and showing it to her eagerly. She sighed and took it from him, putting it back on the table and starting to eat. He pushed it towards her determinedly and she gazed at the numbers – ..14.20 .. She couldn't find a pattern, even though the Doctor seemed to be able to. She kept imagining that he had written it, although in his current state that was highly unlikely. "I'll figure it out later, right now I just want to eat breakfast," as she was talking, Sylvia trudged in and poured herself a cup of coffee. "Hello!" The Doctor exclaimed giddily, and she stared at him as if he'd just personally threatened her. "I thought you said he couldn't talk,"  
"He couldn't," she frowned, and then noticed the message.

She picked it up and examined it much the way the Doctor had. "What's this?"  
"I don't know, I just found it on the table. I've got no idea what it means,"  
"It's a code,"  
"I can see that," she put it back down and sat beside the Doctor, angling the chair away from him. Nevertheless he flung his arms around her and she made a disgusted noise, pushing him away. He started laughing hysterically, but once he calmed down every time he looked at her he started laughing all over again. "Do you know how to decode it? I've tried all sorts of things but it just ends up as gibberish," Donna asked after he finally managed to get himself under control, clutching his ribs and leaning on the table, taking deep breaths. "What about every number represents a letter?"  
"I know-"  
"No, I mean one is a, two is b and so on,"  
"Oh, I haven't tried that," she took out a pen and started translating.

..14.20 ..  
Wait for UNIT.  
Donna tilted her head, gazing at the letter with a mix of curiousity and suspicion. "Wait for UNIT?" She read aloud, turning the Doctor. He shrugged and Sylvia did the same. "They must mean..." She quickly stopped herself before giving Sylvia too much information. "Mean what?" She asked after Donna mysteriously silenced. "Err, nothing. You know what, I need to make a phone call," she quickly dashed into the living room and dialled Grace. "What's up Donna?"  
"I got this weird coded letter this morning, it translates to wait for UNIT,"  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
"Maybe it's a message meaning UNIT's gonna get involved?"  
"I should probably tell Harry,"  
"Yeah, good idea," she hung up and returned to the kitchen to see the Doctor washing the dishes.

He turned and grinned when she entered. "He _does _know we have a dishwasher right?" Sylvia shrugged, hiding the smug smile. Obviously she'd told him to do so. "Doctor, you can stop now," he smiled and then simply dropped the plates into the sink, sloshing soapy water all over his suit. She sighed and was leading him away to get changed when everything went black. "Wha...?" She opened her eyes, feeling the cold damp concrete on her bare arms, and sat up to see she was in what appeared to be a cell; a large cube, six-by-six feet, with a high ceiling. It was grey and drab, except for a large wooden door opposite her and a light bulb dangling from the ceiling, barely illuminating the cell.

Her wrist was shackled to the wall by a heavy metal chain that clinked loudly when she moved. A headache and various other limb pains were starting to make themselves known, but she couldn't figure out what had happened, no matter how hard she thought. If she tried to think, her memories just went fuzzy and the headache got worse. She sat back against the cool concrete wall, trying to clear her mind and wake herself up further. After a few minutes of silence the realisation that she was alone dawned on her. Where was the Doctor? Was he alright? She yanked on the chain, but it was sturdy and held strong. It was when she was really about to panic when voices approached the door.

She decided her best chance was to pretend to be still unconscious, so she lay back down and closed her eyes as the door opened. "So, this is the human?" Asked a woman's voice with a heavy Irish accent. "Yes ma'am, this is Miss Noble, the human _he _takes with him in his Time Lord machine," deep breaths, she told herself, trying to remain calm. She decided to pretend her life wasn't in danger, so she thought about how she vaguely recognised the second voice. "She will do nicely," replied the first voice. Do nicely? Do nicely for what? She tried not the shudder at the images her mind showed her. "She will surely make him speak," continued the second voice. Make him speak? Who, the Doctor?

There was some more shuffling of feet and one of them mumbled something before they both left, closing the heavy wooden door behind them. Once she deemed it safe, she sat up and rubbed her cold arms, trying to come to terms with her current situation. The Doctor had always told her travelling with him was dangerous. She just didn't think she was in danger while at her own home. Well, she wasn't going to just sit around, so she took a hairpin from her hair and started to pick the lock of her shackle. She'd never done so before, and it took what felt like a long time, but eventually it popped open and fell to the ground, making a loud noise as it did so. She froze, expecting guards or something to burst in and blow her brains out, but nothing happened.

She headed over to the door and jiggled the handle. Also locked, so she took out the pin again and picked that lock too. Once she heard the click, she turned the handle and swung the door open to see a very familiar face. The man from the hospital – James Gorrd – the murderer. "Going somewhere?" He asked, as she realised it was his voice she recognised while pretending to be knocked out. "No?" He gave a harsh bark of a laugh and took her arm, dragging her down the corridor beyond, which was also cold grey concrete. He was gripping her arm hard enough to cause pain to shoot up all the way to her shoulder, but she dared not complain as she was lead to another large wooden door.

She tried not to concentrate on the fact that the doorknob had red stains on it. The door opened to reveal a very large room, but she couldn't see anything until she was dragged inside. It was at least forty feet wide, with a balcony stretching its length high up. There were a lot of strange pillars scattered around and in the centre was one with chains. The Doctor had similar shackles to the one she had on his wrists, nailed high up on the slab so he dangled, his feet barely touching the floor. He was no longer wearing a shirt and was slumped over, chest heaving, eyes trained on the grate beneath his feet.

Donna tried not to gasp in horror as she saw the ugly red gashes marring his chest and stomach, and the blood dripping down onto the grate. He had his eyes squeezed shut and was gritting his teeth as two men approached in all-black clothes. She made a hopeless attempt to struggle free, yanking her arm, but James only tightened his grip until her fingers started going numb. "She was trying to get away," James said as he pushed her to the ground at their feet. The two men scrutinized her as she lay on the damp, dirty ground. They looked almost identical – both in their late twenties – except one had short blonde hair and the other had long black hair. Their eyes were empty and emotionless, but they were both grinning wickedly at her. "This is Miss Noble?" The blonde asked, crouching in front of her and tilting his head.

He reached towards her, but pulled his hand back before touching her. "Yes," James replied, taking a few steps back. She glanced at the Doctor to see him watching her with sorrowful eyes, tear marks running down his dirty face. She was about to yell at him when she hauled to her feet by the black-haired man. "I am Kared," he said, motioning to himself as she gained her footing. He then pointed to the white-haired man. "And he is Lité. We were named after our great purpose; to bring light and dark to this world," she decided not to voice her thoughts aloud, but, personally, she thought they were both nut jobs.

She was lead to another of the pillars, opposite the Doctors, but the gap spanned almost the length of the room. She was also chained to a slab, but her arms hung at her sides as the chains were connected to the floor. "Why are the chains on the floor?" She asked as Kared and Lité put more shackles on her upper arms. "Because we do not need information from you," Kared said. "You are just here for motivational purposes," Lité finished. They stood back and examined their handiwork before turning as a woman approached. She, too, wore all black clothes, but she was carrying a thick rope whip.

She smiled sadistically at Donna as she approached, swinging the whip back and forth menacingly. "Hello again Miss Noble," she said, her Irish accent more prominent than before. "Hi," she replied, watching as she approached the Doctor. "Is does not matter if the Doctor holds his silence, Donna wasn't it? Will surely speak," Kared stated, leaning against the slab, arms crossed, a picture of calm. "Speak, speak about what?" No one answered, but James nodded at the Irish woman raised the whip and cracked it forward. The Doctor cried out and recoiled as a new gash opened on his stomach, trickling fresh blood. He had closed his eyes again and was still gritting his teeth. Donna was doing the same; she didn't know or want to know the information they wanted, but she couldn't stand there and watch them torture the Doctor.

Once the blood stopped flowing, the woman didn't whip him again, much to Donna's surprise. Instead, she curled it up and leaned closer to him. He tried to lean away, but hissed and quickly righted himself. The woman kissed him, running her hands down his chest, her sharp nails reopening healed wounds. "Can't I keep him, I promise to treat him nicely," she asked in a mocking tone, cracking the whip close enough to make him yelp again. "Now now, Delilah, you know that's not why you were employed," Lité scolded, examining his white-painted nails as if torture was a normal part of his routine. Perhaps it was. Kared pushed off the wall and walked over to Delilah, leaning close to her ear. "Sure you don't want to share him?" He whispered, running a hand trough the Doctor's hair. "Maybe I do," she replied, opening ever more gashes with her nails. "Bullshit, you just want him to yourself," she laughed, a high-pitched, shrill noise. The Doctor tried to shrink away from them, but failed. Hands going places Donna really thought they shouldn't.

Echoing footsteps started approaching from the door Donna had been taken in from, but it was behind the slab and she couldn't see the person. Delilah stepped away from the Doctor again and rolled up the whip, watching him bleed slowly as Kared returned to Donna's left and leaned back against the slab as he done earlier. The gunshot wound was visible near his the Doctor's shoulder, and Delilah started gazing at it with her head tilted. "How did he obtain this gunshot wound?" She asked, gently poking it. The Doctor tried to lean away again, but gave up halfway through. "Someone shot him," Donna replied harshly. She turned to her, nothing but curiousity on her face. "Who?"  
"I don't know, someone told to by your boss," the curiousity turned to a sneer. "Whoever did so will be killed,"  
"Why?"  
"Because he was not meant to be harmed, he was meant to be taken in without injury. I will personally kill this traitor," she hissed, snapping the whip in her frustration.

Donna couldn't watch the Doctor in pain anymore, so she looked away, only to see Neila. She was the person who had been approaching. She stopped when she saw Donna and gazed back and forth between the Doctor and Donna for a few seconds "Hello Donna," she said almost cheerily. "Hey Neila, how's your day been?" Donna replied with the same tone. She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes as she approached further. "I am truly sorry you had to get involved Donna, I would have liked you not have to see this," she motioned for Delilah to continue, and she did so with relish, brining the whip back and then cracking it forward.

The Doctor screamed now, clearly giving up on hiding his pain. Delilah brought the whip back again. "Wait!" Donna yelled, struggling against her restraints. Everyone turned to her with expectant expressions. "I'll tell you anything you want to know, just _please _stop hurting him!" There were grins all around, except for Neila, who kept a straight face. Kared looked to Delilah, who nodded minutely. "Donna, would you care to tell us what his Time Lord machine is called?" They didn't know? "I'll only answer your questions if you answer mine," Delilah shrugged, nonchalant. "Sure, we only want to get answers from you, it is only fair if you get answers in return," Donna looked at the Doctor, but he only gazed back at her wordlessly, blinking rapidly to try and hide the tears. How long had he withstood this pain in silence? "It's called a TARDIS; it stands Time and Relative Dimensions in Space,"  
"And your first question?" Kared replied. "Are you all aliens?"  
"No," he replied. "Delilah and James are human, we are not," she nodded to herself.

"Where might we find this TARDIS?" He continued. Would they know if she lied to them? "Down the street from-"  
"Please don't lie to us Donna," Lité interrupted, motioning for Delilah to whip the Doctor again. Donna tried to block out his anguish as she rearranged her thoughts. Well, at least now she knew she couldn't lie. "In my backyard," some nods here and there and more mumbling. "Who are you working for?" Delilah laughed. "I am sorry Donna, but that is the one question we cannot answer," she frowned. Of course, why would they answer that? Delilah gazed at the Doctor for what felt like a long while. "Is he the only one who can operate it?" She asked, picking bits of _something _off her whip. "I don't know, but he's the only one I've seen be able to work it properly... Why are you doing this?" She vaguely realised Lité was releasing her from the shackles.

The chains tumbled to the floor and she rubbed her numb wrists. "Because we wish to stop the Doctor from ever existing," he replied, twirling the key around his finger. "Or, well, the boss does anyway. So, how do we get into this TARDIS?"  
"You just open the doors and walk in," Kared suddenly looked vicious. "We said not to lie," and then Delilah and her whip were suddenly in front of her and she braced for the pain as she prepared to whip her. She closed her eyes as the whip approached. "Stop!" She opened her eyes and stared at the Doctor, just as incredulous as everyone else.

The Doctor was still breathing deeply, but it was clearly him who had called out. "Leave her... Alone," he continued through gritted teeth. "Oh, so you're going to speak now?" Lité asked eagerly, although he got no response. "Fine then," and then there was white-hot pain running up her arm and she gasped with the force of it. "No, Donna!" She couldn't concentrate, his voice barely penetrating the sudden silence. No. He had gone through possibly hours of this. She was going to stay strong for him. She sucked in a deep breath and held it until her vision cleared of the unexpected tears. The Doctor was struggling weakly, only hurting himself further in his sudden attempt to escape.

Once he saw her watching him, he calmed down considerably and they gazed at each for a long time before someone broke the silence. "The boss wanted her unharmed," it was Neila. "I thought he wanted me dead," Donna replied. "He changed his mind," Kared huffed. "It's just a scratch, I'm sure the boss won't care," Neila frowned. "He specifically said unharmed," so it was a he? "Yeah, well she'll be fine by the time he sees her, _if _he sees her at all," she could feel the blood trickling down her arm and dripping from the tips of her fingers. The searing pain had become a dull throbbing as she listened to Kared and Neila bicker, and she wiped her arm on her shirt to get rid of the blood. All that did was make it worse again, so she gave up and just let her arm drip all over the floor. "I think I'm going to leave a stain," she stated as she noticed there was no grate by her feet, the blood was just pooling on the floor. Lité and James – who she'd completely forgotten about – laughed and Delilah smiled to herself. "See, Neila, Donna knows what we are trying to achieve, she is _helping us_, she does not care about the mark, Delilah was simply teaching her not to lie, it's incredibly rude," Kared said, taking a handkerchief from a pocket and wrapping around the gash on her arm. "There we go darlin', now you won't bleed everywhere," she didn't reply, she was no longer listening.

She had put her other hand in her jacket pocket, only to feel a piece of metal. She had definitely not put anything there earlier, so someone else had put it there. Perhaps she could take it out and examine it discreetly, so she drew her hand from her pocket slowly. It was a small metal disc that reminded her greatly of a cliché UFO, with a small, blinking red dot in the centre. Some kind of tracking device? Wait for UNIT... UNIT was tracking her! That meant they could walk in at any moment, guns-a-blazing. Or were they waiting for some kind of signal? Was she meant to do something? Was the Doctor meant to do something?

She blinked rapidly when she realised Lité was waving his hand in front of her face. "You alright?" He asked, no concern in his voice whatsoever. "Oh, yeah, sorry, zoned out for a minute,"  
"Oi, what's that?" He asked, taking the tracker from her fingers. She decided to play dumb. "I don't know, I just found it in my pocket, I don't even know how it got there," he inspected it, then handed it to Kared, who also gazed at it. Why had he not known she was lying? Perhaps it was because she was still unsure of its purpose herself. "It's some kind of tracker!" He exclaimed, suddenly looking like it was a hot poker in his fingers. "Well why's someone tracking _me_?" She asked as he threw it down the drain underneath the Doctor, who had gone unnaturally, _eerily_still and silent.

She was surprised none of them believed she brought it herself as they turned to her. "Could be someone else wanting the Time Lord's machine," Delilah suggested, waving the whip around in a very bored fashion. "Well they can't have it!" Lité shouted in a sudden rage. "We got him first!" He continued, waving at Donna for some reason. As if that was a cue, there was a loud bang and smoke began to rapidly fill the room. Donna dared not run, afraid to leave the Doctor alone and equally as afraid of being caught by her captives. "Shit, someone's found us!" One of them yelled, and then they disappeared into the smoke, only Kared and Lité's eyes remaining visible, four blank, emotionless orbs floating in the gas. She could hear them talking, and then their eyes too disappeared and she was alone.

What was she meant to do? Help the Doctor. Free the Doctor. That was what she was meant to do. She ran forward blindly through the smoke and found ugly shapes looming all around her out of the gloom. Keep running, she told herself, forcing her legs to keep moving even thought they wanted to just collapse. After what felt like an eternity she found the Doctor and fought back the urge to hug him, what with the gashes and all the blood. He was still bleeding, his eyes were closed and he wasn't moving, hanging limp in the shackles. "Doctor," no response. "Doctor!" Nothing. She yanked uselessly on the restraints holding him up, but they were solid iron and didn't budge.

People were all around her, shouting and shooting. She could see them morphing in and out of view all around her, just dark shapes approaching menacingly only to dart off in the opposite direction. It was getting harder to breathe. She started coughing. Was this place on fire or something?

She tried pulling on the restraints again, only to find the Doctor watching her with half-lidded eyes. "... Run," he whispered as he started coughing harshly. "I'm not leaving you," he either didn't hear or ignored the determination in her voice. "Run Donna!"  
"No," he stared at her with a strange expression before ducking his head and gazing at the floor solemnly. "I don't... Want you to... Die here... Because... Of me," he got out through coughs. "I won't,"  
"You will," she decided to just ignore anything he said from then on. Her vision was fading. She couldn't leave him. His eyes were closed again. Was he conscious? People were all around her now; she could hear them yelling back and forth. Something about backup. She saw someone, just a hazy blob now, approach her and they said something but she didn't hear them. She'd failed the Doctor. She'd done everything she could...

There was an annoying beeping close by. It was loud and repetitive and obnoxious, but she couldn't shut it out now that she was awake. Wait. She was awake! She quickly opened her eyes and sat up to see she was in a familiar hospital bed; the bed she'd chosen while the Doctor was in hospital. Her arm itched, and she glanced at it to see it wrapped in thick bandages and there was a gas mask on her face. She tried to reach for it, only to have her arms gently lowered again, and she turned to see Wilf beside her. "I don't think that's a good idea, Dr. Sullivan said to keep it on until he said so," she let her arms drop to her sides and he smiled. The beeping turned out to be a heart monitor. Now she understood why the Doctor disliked it so much.

Where was he? She glanced around frantically, only to find the room empty of anyone besides her and Wilf. Was he alright? She could hear the monitor speeding up, but she couldn't calm herself. Had those people been UNIT? They wouldn't hurt him would they? "Donna, Donna calm down!" She concentrated on Wilf's voice and slowly got herself under control. He gently lowered the mask. "I know he said to keep it on, but what's wrong?"  
"Is he alright?" He swallowed and sat on a plastic chair he'd pulled up beside her bed. "He's..."  
"Please tell me he's alright,"  
"He's not dead, I know that'll be good news at least," she felt herself begin to panic. "What's wrong with him?"  
"Well, he had a lot injuries Donna, some of them worse than others," she stared at the blanket.

Even though she was now the one in the hospital bed, she felt a strange sense of dè-ja-vu. This wasn't happening. "He's not in another...?" He'd know what she meant. "Err, no, he's not,"  
"How long have I been out?"  
"Almost a day, it's strong stuff whatever they used," she dreaded the next question, but felt it needed to be asked. "And the Doctor?"  
"He hasn't woken up yet... They're keeping him heavily sedated until they can properly fix him up,"  
"Properly?" Wilf sighed and glanced at the clock on the wall. "I'm sorry Donna, I was told not to tell you,"  
"Why not?"  
"Because you'd panic," she didn't have a comeback for that.  
She knew she would, even though she tried to deny it. "They said, they said you might have PTSD," she stared at him. "I might have what?"  
"Um, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder," her throat constricted and she started to feel numb. If she had that... What about the Doctor? He had to go through that for much longer than her. "Donna, you alright?"  
"Yeah, sure. Where's mum?"  
"Oh, she got booked for speeding,"  
"She what?"  
"She said she was seeing her daughter because she'd just discovered she was in hospital – doing 20 over mind you – but she still got taken in anyway," she almost laughed. That sounded like Sylvia.

She was about to keep talking when Harry walked in. "You're not meant to have that off yet," he scolded, motioning at the gas mask, which Donna quickly put back on. "You inhaled quite a lot of smoke," Wilf turned to watch Harry as he scribbled something on Donna's chart. "Has she got any bad injuries doc?"  
"No, she had a minor laceration on her arm, caused by a whip of all things, but besides that and a minor concussion, she's fine," he nodded to himself. "Good, good," she couldn't take it any longer. She pulled the mask off, and Harry was about to rebuke her again but she interrupted. "When can I see him?" His face fell. "Donna-"  
"Tell me," he glanced at Wilf. "Not for a while," she had to wait. How long did she have to wait before knowing if he was alright? If he was going to recover this time?

* * *

Umm, yeah. I hope you like it ^^;  
Sorry about the length. I got carried away...


	15. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

I really enjoyed writing this chapter! It was heaps of fun and I love it, I just hope you guys like it too!  
I had to do heaps of research for this one though, but that in itself was informative and I learned new stuff :D  
Enjoy!

* * *

The next day she was released from her prison – which was in fact the heart monitor. She couldn't sleep the previous night, partly because of its insistent beeping, and partly because of her anxiety. She also had the mask removed as well, which may also have helped to keep her awake. Wilf visited her again earlier in the morning and Sylvia closer to lunch time, explaining the previous day's events and apologizing profusely. After she'd left, Harry and Grace brought her lunch, but she refused to eat. "Donna, you didn't eat breakfast, you ate nothing yesterday, you _have _to eat," Harry demanded, pushing the food closer to her. "Not until I see him," she knew they understood what she meant, but they kept avoiding the question anyway.

Grace sighed and Harry started pacing. "Look, Donna, this is unhealthy. We're worried about him just as much as you are, but you _need _to eat _something_," she debated over arguing with Grace some more to try and get her point across, but her stomach complained loudly at that idea, so she gave up and started eating the toast before her. Once she'd finished the food, she up straight resolutely, even though her back hurt for some reason whenever she did so. "What did they do to him?" Neither doctor responded. "Tell me," she demanded. "Donna, I don't think that's a good idea," Harry cautioned. "_Tell me_," he glanced uneasily at Grace, and then sat heavily in a plastic chair near the window.

He remained silent for a few seconds. "There were close to forty lacerations of varying diversity on his chest and stomach, he'd lost a dangerous amount of blood, more than can be from those gashes alone, so they must have been reopened one or more times. They appeared to be caused by some kind of whip?"  
"Yes, that' what caused them, yes,"  
"Hmm. He also had minor bruising to and internal bleeding in his stomach – which we've already operated on to stop – two cracked ribs and a broken rib. He was lucky it didn't puncture his lung," Donna went over the injuries in her head. It had only been three weeks at the most since The Incident and now this. He wasn't being given time to recover.

They must have noticed her sudden silence and lack of movement, because they suddenly had those 'doctor' faces. "I'm fine," they didn't appear to believe her, although she couldn't blame them. "He's got an IV, an Intra-Aortic Balloon Pump– his blood pressure dropped dangerously low last night while we were operating and his hearts just aren't pumping enough blood fast enough – so this machine helps them, and a gas mask for the severe smoke inhalation. He's heavily sedated at the moment so the machines are doing almost everything for him," more machines. "I want to see him,"  
"Donna-"  
"I want to see him," Harry rubbed his eyes wearily. "I'm sorry Donna, you _can't _see him," something was wrong.

Why else wouldn't they let her seem him? She was allowed to see him last time they were in hospital while he was _in a coma_. Sedation was practically the same thing. "What's wrong with him? What aren't you telling me?" They both stared at her. "Donna, there isn't anything we're not telling you, we've listed off all his injuries, but you can't see him until his condition is stable; his blood pressure keeps fluctuating dangerously, his blood-oxygen levels are still very low, we want to keep him in isolation until he's not critical," Donna frowned. None of this mattered, was it really that bad if she was in the same room as him? "Donna... We want you to see a psychiatrist, just for a few week," Grace looked as if she already knew the answer. "No,"  
"Please Donna, for us, and for _him_," she gritted her teeth in frustration. "_Fine_, but I'm only going once," they smiled triumphantly. She felt her horrible mood worsening.

"Alright, so, Miss Noble, I am Theodora Bozella, your psychiatrist," Donna tried not to frown as the boring woman droned on about things she already knew. She looked like some kind of crabby school principal, complete with little square glasses and silvery hair. "I know,"  
"Ah, good," she looked down at the clipboard in her hands. "Ok, I'm going to ask you a few questions first,"  
"Fire away," Theodora raised an eyebrow at the poorly concealed sarcasm. "How old are you?"  
"That's not important," she sighed and folded her hands in her lap. "Alright, then we'll get straight to the point," uh-oh. "Dr. Holloway and Dr. Sullivan want you to tell me what happened to you and your... Friend," what did she mean friend? Why had she said it so strangely? "I don't think I want to tell you," images of the Doctor suspended from the stone slab, blood all over the floor and his body flashed before her and him screaming at her to leave him assaulted her ears.

She shied away from the images, forcing herself to concentrate on a Mona Lisa replica on the wall. "I know this is hard for you Donna, but talking about it will help,"  
"How do you know?"  
"Because you are not my first patient," she didn't like being called a patient. She was not the one fighting for life. "I know you're uncomfortable with telling me what happened – I'm a stranger," and someone she didn't know if she could trust. "But I only want to help you Donna," she sighed, defeated. Perhaps getting it off her chest would be a good thing after all. "I couldn't sleep,"  
"When?"  
"The night before... Before..."  
"I understand," she scribbled onto the clipboard, but was clearly listening. "The- John, he couldn't sleep either; every time I woke up he was awake,"  
"You share a bedroom?"  
"Yes, he's still-... He was still recovering," more scribbling and she nodded.

"I got up early, just because I couldn't get back to sleep, but I was seeing a friend for lunch, so I got dressed up nicely and then headed into the kitchen," she decided edit out the bit about the letter. "I made a phone call and then," she swallowed. Theodora remained silent, pen hovering over the paper. "Take your time,"  
"I-I don't know what happened, I was suddenly waking up," 'deep breaths, stay calm' was the mantra her mind kept repeating. It wasn't working. "I was in a cell or something, it was made of concrete and there was a wooden door," she could leave out all the unimportant stuff. "I was chained to the wall, but I picked the lock,"  
"With?"  
"A hairpin," more nodding.

"Um," stay calm. "And-and then I tried to leave and-" She couldn't stop the memories. She was back in the cell, and she got to her feet, listening to the chain fall to the floor with loud clinks. The door was locked, what a surprise, so she picked that lock too and the door swung open to reveal James, smiling in a way she didn't like. "Going somewhere?"  
"No?" He laughed harshly and reached for her arm, but she ready this time and, just as his fingers touched her, she recoiled, pulling her arm away. Harry blinked in shock and quickly put his hands in the air. Wait, Harry? She wasn't in the cell; she was in a psychiatrists office at the hospital. James was not the one who had tried to grab her arm, it was Harry. Her eyes flitted to the hand-shaped bruises on un-bandaged arm, and Harry followed her gaze. "I'm sorry," he lowered his hands, knowing she'd understood the gesture, but remained crouched in front of her. "There's no need to apologize, I should've been more careful," she felt like replying harshly, but thought against it. She didn't want them thinking she was weak or scared... Even though she knew she was.

No. She was nothing. The Doctor was going through much more than her. And he needed her. "Can I go now?" Harry nodded slowly and gave her the space to stand before, without looking at either doctor or Theodora, she stormed out. It was stupid and irrational behaviour, she _knew _all three of them only wanted to help her, but the best thing for her would be to see the Doctor. She stopped after turning a few corners and found herself sliding down the wall until she was hugging her knees to her chest and she stared ahead blankly. Why was she acting like this? Why couldn't she just get over it? Practically nothing had happened to her. Her arm throbbed and itched in disagreement, but she knew she was right.

She had a bruise and a scratch. That was it. The Doctor had about forty of them, as well as broken bones and internal bleeding and _brain damage_. She realised Harry and Grace had found her, but she didn't bother acknowledging them. "Donna, whatever happened to you-"  
"_Nothing _happened to me compared to what they did to him,"  
"Yes, but we need to know what your assailants looked like, perhaps the police can find them," she stared at Harry for a long while, longer than was necessary. "Delilah," Grace, who had been hovering in the background, seemed surprised to hear a woman's name. Harry had a similar reaction. "I beg your pardon?"  
"Her name was Delilah. She was Irish,"  
"There was only the one-"  
"No. James was there," he made an unamused face. "I'm not surprised," Grace stated, sitting beside Donna.

She could see people walking past and watching them, confused, but if a doctor or a nurse walked past they simply gave them space and sympathetic looks. She didn't want their sympathy. "And... Twins, and Neila,"  
"She said-"  
"I know what she said, she defended me,"  
"And the twins, can you give us a description?"  
"They were very pale, one was blond and one had black hair and they both had blank eyes. They knew if I was lying," she was glad they didn't question what the repercussions of lying was. "Delilah, what did Delilah look like?"  
"Dark hair, tall-ish, really creepy smile," they both turned to someone walking in their direction.

It looked like someone from the military. Someone from UNIT? Harry stood as he approached, but Grace remained sitting at Donna's side. The soldier and Harry walked into a room and closed the door behind them. "Who's that and why's he here?" Grace hesitated. "He's a UNIT soldier, and he's here for your descriptions,"  
"Oh," they fell into silence until Harry returned. The soldier walked off, speaking frantically into his walkie-talkie in hushed tones. He was given a wide berth. Probably because of the large rifle strapped to his back. He was stopped by security at the end of the hall. They were most likely suspicious of the weapon.

It took ten minutes to persuade Donna to go back to her room, and even then she wasn't too happy about it. The two doctors left her to her own thoughts until around six in the evening, where they managed to get her to eat dinner before leaving again. As much as their constant worrying irritated her, she didn't like being alone in the private ward at night. Before she had found the heart monitor and gas mask irritating, but now their presence would have been a comfort. She was afraid to keep the curtains open, but closing them blocked out the moonlight. The room was dark, and twisted, wicked shapes loomed out at her in the form of shadows. She had never been afraid of the dark, and it still wasn't the dark that scared her. It was the feeling of loneliness they produced. The thoughts that someone or something was watching her every move. Waiting for the right moment.

It was a long and restless night, her anxiety warding off the sanctum of sleep. It was raining again when morning came, and only then did she slumber. The heavy fog from outside had actually leaked through the open window and into her room when Harry and Grace entering awoke her, startling her into awareness. With them came good news. The Doctor's vitals had stopped fluctuating, but he was still worse for wear, and was still being kept under sedation. They were being extremely wary, and weren't removing any of the machines for at least another day. They still refused to let her see him.

She lasted until early afternoon before asking again. They still refused, but she persisted anyway. They told her about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and how she can learn to live with it, even though she still refused to believe she had it. Her certainty was wavering though. She had fears she didn't have before she was kidnapped. She hadn't been so anxious, so suspicious of people. What if she really did have it? Did Sylvia know? What if she didn't, what did she tell her? "Donna, you alright?" She shook her head frantically to disperse her worries and turned to Grace's concerned face.

She tried to smile reassuringly. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine," she was frowning slightly, worry in her eyes, but didn't question further. Harry was fiddling with her chart, so she decided to ignore him and stare out the window. The fog had dispersed almost an hour ago. Harry and Grace were glad, but Donna had quite liked the rolling, pale mass. It had been rather a comfort to her. "Donna," so much for ignoring him. She turned to Harry, who was standing quite formally, with his arms folded behind his back. "I have changed my mind," Grace was staring at him curiously, so she obviously had no idea what was going on either. "I can see how much this is distressing you, so I am going to take you to see the Doctor," was she hearing things?

She found she could only stare unceremoniously in response as Harry smiled at her reaction. "But-" A stern glanced silenced anything Grace had intended to say as the words finally registered for Donna. "Really?" He nodded and she leapt off the bed, almost jumping up and down in anticipation. They led her to a room down the hall, which she had seen a few times during her wanderings. The door had remained closed, and she had almost opened it out of curiousity a few times. She was both regretting it and glad she hadn't. Harry opened the door and allowed Donna to enter first. What she saw caused her steps to falter.

The Doctor was lying prostrate on a hospital bed in the middle of the room. A large machine took up most of his beside, and cords disappeared under the bandages wrapped thickly around his bare chest and stomach. Beside the machine was an IV, and on his other side was a heart monitor and another large machine with lots of readouts she didn't understand, a cord led from its side to a black strap wrapped around his bicep and another cord disappeared into the crook of his elbow. He was breathing deeply, the gas mask misting with every breath. It was almost as if the past three weeks had never happened. He looked worse than he did while in the coma.

She felt like she'd walked into a brick wall, but it wasn't her head that ached. It was her heart. Her eyes stung with tears and her throat constricted. She heard Harry say to give her some room, and they left her with him in silence. How long would she have to wait before he woke up again? She pulled up a plastic chair and sat beside him, navigating through the wires and the machines to take his pale hand in both of her own, her eyes being drawn to the needle marks in the arm without the strap and cord. "What have they done to you?" She didn't quite know who she was referring to, but she said it anyway.

She didn't know whether she liked the silence or not. Whether it calmed her or frustrated her. She sighed, not bothering to fight back the tears anymore as the past few days' events finally caught up with her. Perhaps she'd been in shock or denial or something, because she finally realised that she'd been kidnapped. That the Doctor had been tortured. She had refused to believe it, but now she couldn't deny it. The proof was lying on the bed beside her, swathed in machines and cords. Still holding his hand, she crossed her arms on the blanket and rested her head on them, watching the steady rise and fall of the Doctor's chest.

She must have fallen asleep, because she woke up to late afternoon sun turning the room a bright shade of orange, and to Harry and Grace sitting in chairs at the far end of the room. "Hi," Harry smiled and Grace replied with "hello".  
"How long was I asleep?"  
"About six hours, which is not necessarily a bad thing," she sat up and stretched, feeling something in her back pop, her neck aching. "How are you feeling?" Harry asked, speaking instead of Grace. She shrugged. "Ok, I guess,"  
"Donna-"  
"I'm not going back to that psychiatrist," he blinked a few times. "I wasn't-"  
"I know what you were going to say, and no, I'm not going back," she found herself gripping the Doctor's hand for dear life, and quickly softened her grip.

She had no idea how much she didn't want to leave now that she was here. She didn't feel the fear for his safety she had felt last time he was in hospital; it was a fear to be away from him. That if she left he'd be tortured again. Deep breaths, stay calm. She seemed to be repeating that to herself quite a lot. She frowned, gazing down at the bruises on her arm, and she could feel the ghost of James's grip, and shook her arm frantically to dissolve it. She didn't have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. She told herself it didn't matter if Grace and Harry believed she did. She was just a bit jumpy. She was back with the Doctor now and had the comforting knowledge that he was recovering.

* * *

Doctor Who belongs to the BBC. I've forgotten to put that in for quite a while!


	16. Misinformed

Smoke and Mirrors now has its own logo!  
#/d5mleyj

Two chapters in one day. See how much I love you guys?  
Just one chapter to go and then the story's finished! But don't worry, there's gonna be an epilogue and a sequel :D

* * *

It was night when she awoke once again, but she wasn't with the Doctor; she was back in her own ward. She was also surprised to see she was back in the hospital gown, which she had changed out of before seeing the psychiatrist. Harry and Grace wouldn't move her would they? It was too dark. The shadows were mocking her silently, stealthily wrapping around her sense of security and squeezing it. Crushing it. "I'm not scared of you," she hissed, leaping off the bed. She wobbled and slipped on something wet, and she gripped the bed railing and looked down to see blood on the floor and on her bed. The bandage on her arm was gone and the gash was bleeding freely again, the blood dripping into the puddle beneath her echoing and reverberating too loudly around the room.

She swallowed hard, and called for Harry and Grace, but they didn't show up. Of course. They would be at home by now. She scolded herself for her stupidity, and went over to the closed door. There were blood stains on the handle, and she forced herself to swallow again, the bile rising in her throat. She ignored the acidic taste it left behind and grabbed the slippery handle, fumbling to turn it from the blood now soaking her hand as well. After a minute, she wiped her hand on her shirt, leaving an ugly red stain, and yanked the door open with too much force. Blood splattered all over the floor and door from the sudden movement of her arm, but she walked into the hallway determinedly.

The fog had returned, reaching her waist now. A pale grey mass that blocked the path ahead. It wasn't a comfort anymore, a misty white haze blocking her path. She could only see a few metres ahead, anything beyond her line of sight nothing but a dark shape. People were shouting at each other and she could see them running from room to room, but they didn't acknowledge her. The corridor stretched on on either side of her, with no turn offs and the ends not visible. She knew where she wanted to go, so started walking left down the hallway. It must have been the middle of the night, or close to it, but the fog prevented her from seeing the hands on any of the was more blood in the hallway, on the walls and the floor. Bloody handprints, large splatters and smears that looked like something had been dragged along. She took deep breaths, trying to avoid looking at the blood, but her eyes kept wandering against her will. "Donna!" She spun in a circle. Where was he? That had been the Doctor. "Help me!" It sounded like he was all around her. She didn't know where his voice was coming from. Something laughed close by, and she felt their breath on her neck. She screamed and started running, unsure of where she was going. The corridor continued to just go on, doors flashing past. Her legs ached and her lungs burned, but didn't want to stop. She had to get away from that... _Thing._

She finally reached what looked almost like an intersection; the corridor continued onwards, but also turned off both left and right. There was no more lights ahead. It was darker, but not dark enough that she couldn't see. It looked from then on as if the walls and roof were made of rock or cement, glistening for a reason she couldn't understand. She walked warily into the intersection, spinning in another circle, but there was nothing to be seen. "Donna help me!" She winced at the pain in his voice, knowing she was unable to do anything. Where was he? She surely hadn't been in her ward; she didn't recognise this part of the hospital at all. The people were still walking around behind her. Where they following her?She decided to turn left again, but as soon as she started walking her mind registered a slight splashing. She looked down with a mixture of curiousity and fear to see she was walking through blood. The corridor was flooded by about two inches of blood, and she was walking through it. She fought back the urge to scream again and backed up until she was back at the intersection. She turned around and headed forward, as if she had originally turned right. This corridor had more bloody smears and handprints, but it was better than being flooded. There was a scream, but it wasn't her own. It was the Doctor. He was screaming.

She picked up her pace, running again, no longer caring about her aches and had to find the Doctor. He was in pain. He was suffering. She wasn't going t leave him. She couldn't fail him this time. "Doctor!" She yelled, but only her own voice answered her. Why had he gone silent? What was happening to him? "Doctor!" She slipped on the blood again, but righted herself and kept running until she came to the first door in the hallway. She turned the knob, but her shaking hand slipped on it like the first time. She wiped her hand again, as he arm was still bleeding and painting her hand red, and she saw the blood stain on her shirt double in door got stuck halfway open, and it grated on the ground as she shoved on, forcing it to swing wider. She stepped inside the dark room, gazing around to see what had been blocking the door, and gagged. A skeleton was half-crushed under the door, rotting skin and clothes dangling from its dusty bones, maggots wiggling in what remained of its eyeballs and spiders scuttling in and out of its ribs and mouth. She turned away, only to see the inside of the room. It was the room she had originally been taken to to see the Doctor, but it was different now. Blood dripped from the ceiling, and she gazed up unwillingly to see bodies dangling from the ceiling, wrapped in chains and swaying in a nonexistent wind.

They were the cause of the blood. She stumbled back, but stopped when she heard the crunch under her foot. The bodies were those of her friends. Her couldn't be happening. She wanted to turn and run, but she found herself walking forwards, not looking back at the skeletons crushed skull. She found the huge pillars, huge shapes in the fog. She continued to walk forward until she was in the centre of them. The Doctor was suspended from a pillar, covered in blood, hanging limp in the chains. She ran to him, but she didn't respond when she tried to wake him. She screamed at him to wake up, to move, to _do something_. Her voice was hoarse from screaming, but she kept on going anyway. She was too late this time. She hugged his bloody corpse and cried freely until the tears stopped flowing, and she then continued to sob anyway, apologizing again and again for failing something shook her, she opened her eyes, screaming and crying again, but she stopped when she realised where she was. She was in the Doctor's ward and was by his bedside, Harry hovering over her nervously. "Donna?" She buried her face in the blanket, hiccupping and still sobbing silently. It had been another horrible nightmare. They weren't getting any better. "Donna, are you alright?" She finally looked at him, not expecting the level of concern in his eyes. She gripped the Doctor's hand again. "I had a nightmare,"  
"You were screaming,"  
"I know," he sighed and sat beside her, watching the various machines.

They sat in silence until Grace entered, seeming surprised to see Harry with an arm over Donna's shoulders, her head resting on his own shoulder. "Am I interrupting something?" Donna felt Harry shake his head, and she sat opposite them. "He's going to get better right?" Grace didn't respond, but Harry nodded. "Of course he is Donna, he always does,"  
"But this has never happened to him before," Grace rubbed her eyes and Harry sighed again. "Don't worry, he's improving as he speak," was he saying that just to make her feel better? "His vitals are back to normal, we're taking him off the Balloon Pump and the Heart Monitor in a few minutes," she didn't want to see that, so she returned to her ward until they said they'd looked drastically better without the massive 'Balloon Pump' and Heart Monitor. They still had the strange machine spewing readouts she didn't understand, the IV and the gas mask, but it was better than before. When she really thought about it, at least he hadn't been put on life support this time. "How is he?" She spun around, leaping to her feet. Neila was standing awkwardly in the doorway with a bunch of roses. "What are you doing here?"  
"I... I want to apologize for what I did," she didn't know what to say, whether to scream at her, try to her or forgive her.

Her rational mind was telling her it wasn't her fault, but the other half wanted to rip her apart. "Why?" She walked inside and put the flowers on the table, shuffling her feet and folding her hands behind her back, hanging her head. "Because what I did was wrong," she started ringing her hands. "I know now why you would do so much for him. I researched him, hacking into the boss's database to find why he wanted him dead... I was told he's a murderer. A heartless killer. The man who destroyed his own race. I was told what we were doing was for good. That his death, his suffering would be for those families he hadn't destroyed," she started watching something out the window. "I wasn't told that those people, those who in themselves where guilty of innumerable crimes, died so that the innocent could live. I found out who The Doctor really is. Who you are to him... Who he is to you,"  
"So?"  
"I cannot undo what I have done. Cannot unsee what I have seen. But I hope that you can forgive me, and understand why I come here today _for _forgiveness," did she forgive her?It had not been Neila who attacked the Doctor in the alley. She had not wanted to harm to him at all. She only wanted to follow orders. "Will you tell me what happened?" Her head snapped up. "I don't understand,"  
"You know what happened to him in that alley," she winced, but didn't deny the allegation. "Tell me what happened," she remained silent for a few seconds. "I was with the twins and James. We'd been given some orders. Drug the Doctor. Take him to the boss,"  
"But?"  
"The twins and James, they were drunk and sadistic, talking about how much they were gonna hurt him; make him pay for his sins. I tried to remind them that the boss wanted him unharmed, so he could learn the secrets of his Time Lord machine, but they wouldn't listen to reason. They told me I knew nothing, that my opinion didn't matter. And who was I to fight back? I wouldn't have stood a chance. We found him in alley, he looked upset, with his eyes closed and his head resting against the wall. He heard out approached, but only that of the boys. I had approached him from behind, and buried the needle in his neck. He didn't put up a fight, for the drug seemed to have a really strong affect on him. I tried to tell them I'd given him a big enough dose, but they put more into his system. It was then he started struggling, so James picked up a brick and hit him in the back of the head," she took a deep breath. "I don't know what happened after that, because they knocked me out too, but I saw that they'd left the Doctor and me in the alley, so I checked if he was alive. I didn't think he was, but I called the ambulance anyway and left before they arrived," Donna gasped. "It was you!" She nodded. "Yes. The boss wasn't happy with me though, you see I was meant to keep them under control. He knew they'd probably follow our trail, he gave me a gun and replicated the Doctor's fingerprints, telling me to put it in a dumpster and then alert the police, then monitor you while you were at the hospital," it had been her.

It had been Neila all along. "I did as I was told, albeit unwillingly. I didn't want anything to do with them anymore, but they threatened me,"**  
**"Who?"  
"The others; all of them, so I stayed and did as I was told. I was disappointed when I'd been chosen to try and take the Doctor again at your house," she hadn't wanted to do that? Perhaps that explained her unwillingness. "I didn't want you involved, I really, honestly didn't, but you persisted, and I had to follow orders or I'd be punished," she turned around and lifted the back of her shirt to reveal whip scars. Lots of took another few deep breaths. "Four days ago I think it was now, I was told to go back to your house with James and take both you and the Doctor. We waited until you had finished looking at that strange letter in case it would give us some information, and then broke in. You don't remember any of it do you?"  
"No,"  
"No, I thought you wouldn't," she ran her hands through her hair nervously. "We got inside and it-it was easy because you were already in the hallway. We knocked out your mother using the drug,"  
"What _was _the drug?"  
"I don't know, I was only told it was the strongest stuff we had. James dealt with you and the Doctor and then we took you back to base. James locked you in the cell and the twins and Delilah dealt with the Doctor. The boss wanted to talk to me; that's why I wasn't there,"  
"What did he want to talk about?"  
"My unacceptable behaviour... He said I had not done a good enough job, so he punished me again. By then I had gotten used to the pain. It no longer affected me. But I'd had enough," she frowned. "He was disappointed when I didn't scream," Donna could only asked herself what kind of sick bastard her boss was. "But I quite today; I no longer work for them," she smiled slightly.

They stood, just thinking for a while. "You did everything you could to make sure they wouldn't kill him..."  
"I was following orders,"  
"No you weren't," Neila bit her lip. "I wasn't, no. I didn't want him to die,"  
"Why?" She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe, deep down, I knew what I was being told was wrong," she sighed. "I have nothing to worry about now," she smiled wistfully. "I want to be free,"  
"But you are now," still smiling, she shook her head. "No, I am not free until you forgive me. Only until then can I forgive myself," she debated over refusing, but new that was the wrong thing to do. The Doctor was alive because of Neila. "I forgive you."

* * *

So yeah, I've explained a lot of things about the plot now. Yay.


	17. Picking up the Pieces

Here we go guys, the final chapter!

* * *

The nightmares wavered, nowhere near as graphic as her last one. Donna felt safer and calmer by the Doctor's bedside during the day, but at night his closeness only seemed to encourage the nightmares, so she was told to return to her ward by nine in the evening, and to return after seven in the morning. She didn't exactly agree with the routine, but anything she said was seemingly ignored. Neila visited often, bringing gifts and consolances. She was determined to 'pay back her debt' and was revelling in the fact that her every move wasn't monitored. That there wasn't the danger of being whipped. For two more days this happened, until Donna reassured her she didn't have to give them any more gifts, but she continued to visit them.

It was not for another five days before the Doctor was taken off sedation. Donna refused to leave his bedside, determined to be there when he woke up. "... Oh yeah? One Sontaran? I fought a whole fleet of them!" She said in response to Harry saying he'd unwittingly helped kill a Sontaran and blow up its ship. "While the Earth was being polluted by poisonous gas and killer cars I got beamed up to their ship and fought them from there," Grace, Harry and Neila all stared in awe. "Well, I fought another of his kind," Grace replied. "Another Time Lord? I say,"  
"Pfft, lava people, on the day the volcano blew up all over Pompeii,"  
"Insects that turn you into one them, what about that aye?" Grace rolled her eyes, choosing to say out of it. "Agatha Christy,"  
"Zygons duplicating people,"  
"Killer shadows,"  
"The Loch Ness Monster!" Everyone reacted with shock. Harry had encountered the Loch Ness Monster? Donna didn't exactly have a comeback for that, but she wanted to wipe the smug smile off of his face anyway.

When everyone had fallen into an easy-flowing conversation, Donna returned her attention to the Doctor. He was yet to wake up, and she was beginning to wonder how long it was going to take. "It can take a few hours, Donna he's going to be fine," Grace said, sensing her anxiety. She nodded and started picking at the blanket as Harry went to get a stethoscope. The Doctor's chest and stomach were still bandaged, but from what Donna could tell, he could still hear his heartbeats through the thick material. He put the cold metal to the left side of the Doctor's chest and he squirmed slightly. "N-no... Cold..." He pulled it back, looking shocked. The Doctor took a deep breath and then opened his eyes slowly, looking first at Harry and then at Donna. She grinned, and he smiled weakly in response. "Hey," she whispered. "Hey," his voice was hoarse and shaky, barely audible. "How are you feeling?" He laughed, but ending up coughing afterwards.

He groaned, reaching for the cuff that Donna had learnt monitored his blood pressure, but Harry gently stopped him. "You can't take that off yet old boy," he frowned, coughed some more and then gave in and returned to staring at the ceiling. "Donna?"  
"Yes?"  
"Thank you," she smiled. "There's nothing to thank me for,"  
"There is... You didn't leave me," even though I wanted you. "It's alright," Donna spun around to face Neila, as both Harry and Grace had left for some reason. "Actually, how did you get out?"  
"We had many exits," she shrugged. What if all the others had escaped too? "Did you drug him when we were at the restaurant?"  
"No, I was there at the time, but that was the twins having some fun," she didn't seem happy about it.

Donna nodded; glad she finally understood most of what had happened. She still didn't know why Neila's former boss had wanted all the information in the first place, why the twins and Delilah and James were working for him, who and what he was, whether the Doctor was safe. She sighed and noticed he was watching her again. "Did you remember me, you know, before?"  
"I knew you were... Safe," she didn't quite know what he meant, but she didn't care. He must have remembered how to talk. Or at least form more than one word at a time anyway. "I'm glad you're recovering,"  
"Yep," she laughed as Harry entered. "How long until he can come home again?"  
"He can go home tomorrow if he's careful; some of the gashes required stitches, and I don't want him popping them," she nodded; surprised he hadn't removed them yet.

The Doctor didn't argue as he removed the pressure cuff and the needle from his arm and put a cotton bud over the little red mark before it started bleeding, instructing the Doctor to hold it there. His eyes no longer followed everyone with a blank curiousity, but now held mild interest. He understood what was going on around him. Harry told him to get out of bed if he could, explaining that he wanted to take more x-rays of his brain and chest to access his stage of recovery. He clambered around until Donna helped him out of bed, almost finding it amusing that he was going to pull the IV along with him the whole time. Harry and Grace had – some time while she was unconscious – changed him into a hospital gown, and Grace, who was signing papers at a desk, glanced up and seemed to find it highly amusing as they passed.

Donna waited patiently as the x-rays were taken and watched as Harry compared his brain to that of a healthy one. She couldn't see any differences between them. "He's fully recovered?" She asked eagerly as the Doctor sat upon the bed, swinging his legs back and forth as he watched Harry compare the two. "His ribs are nowhere near healed, and it'll probably take a few weeks before you can remove the bandages, and I don't know about his brain, there's still this dark patch here," he said, indicating to a small patch on the x-ray. He turned to face the Doctor, who raised his eyebrows inquisitively at the attention. "I'm going to ask you a few questions," he winced and closed his eyes, his body going rigid. Harry took a step back, surprised by the reaction, and he glanced at Donna. "I didn't mean to-"  
"Don't... Just ask the questions," his eyes opened, flicking to Donna before returning to Harry as he relaxed.

"Alright, how old are you?" He stared at him blankly without responding. "OK, where were you born?" Still no response. "Doc?"  
"I can't remember," he whispered. He looked at Donna again uneasily when Harry remained silent and pensive for a few seconds. "What _can _you remember?"  
"I'm the Doctor, I remember the TARDIS, Donna..." He narrowed his eyes. "And... And something about a wolf," why would that be important to him? Harry went over to the desk nearby and started dialling on the hospital phone. The Doctor turned to Donna, looking scared and confused. "Why don't I remember?"  
"I don't know,"  
"But if I've almost fully recovered..."  
"Just concentrate on what you remember, tell me," he swallowed nervously.

Harry was talking quietly and urgently, throwing looks at the Doctor whenever he popped up in the conversation. "I remember when I met you,"  
"Yeah, what happened?"  
"I was in the TARDIS and you kind of just appeared," she nodded encouragingly. "And then you slapped me," she laughed and he smiled for a second. "What can you remember about yourself?" The smile faltered. "I'm the Doctor,"  
"Anything else?" He started staring at the floor. "No," she sat on the bed beside him and slung her arm over his shoulder comfortingly and hugged him to her side.

"What am I going to do Donna?"  
"I don't know, but we'll figure this out yeah?" He sighed and leaned into her side, looking defeated and exhausted. "I'm going to remember right?"  
"I hope so," he nodded weakly, his eyes sliding closed. "Doctor?" He slowly relaxed, and she had to hold him up. "Harry?" He glanced at them fleetingly, but quickly returned his attention to them once he saw the Doctor. He quickly hung up and headed over. "I think he's fainted,"  
"Yes; from exhaustion, let's take him back to the ward."

After hearing about what happened, Grace hurried to the ward to check on the Doctor herself, although by then he had woken up. They had been thinking about taking him off the IV, but changed their mind and decided to be cautious, much to the Doctor's distaste. They changed what was in the IV to some weird-named, colourful liquid and were going to monitor him until the morning, saying that if his condition didn't deplete overnight, he could go home. Which meant he would have to take the IV with him if he wanted to go somewhere with Donna.

He found it awkward walking down the hallway, pulling it along with him, but Donna reassured him it was normal. He was in a hospital after all. He didn't like the gown either, but was told to keep in on. He explained after some coaxing that he didn't like the bandages being visible because of the low collar, and that he felt vulnerable. "There's no reason to feel vulnerable because of different clothes," he nodded, looking sheepish. "I know, it's just..."  
"I know mate, it's alright," he smiled and nodded to himself. He glanced up at a clock in the hallway and froze, staring at it with a strange expression. "Doctor?" Donna gently tugged on his arm, and he swayed before righting himself and turning to face her. "I remember something,"  
"Oh?"  
"I've been in a hospital before," it wasn't much, but at least it was something.

Truthfully Donna was relieved and excited that his memories were returning so quickly, but Harry had warned her the Amnesia could last for months, years even in rare cases. "Anything else?" He shook his head and continued onwards. She wondered how a clock could possibly make him remember being in a hospital before, instead of the patients or the medical equipment, but decided it didn't matter as long as it was helping. She sped up to catch up with him as he plodded along, half watching other patients and half daydreaming. She nudged him gently to get his attention. "Hm, yes?" He asked dreamily. "What are you thinking about?"  
"Lots of things,"  
"Like?"  
"You," she felt her steps falter.

Why would he be thinking about _her_? "What about me?"  
"I don't know, I'm trying to remember more about you,"  
"Is it working?" He looked like he'd eaten something sour. "No,"  
"What _do _you remember about me?"  
"You are Donna Noble, I met you in the TARDIS after you appeared in it during your wedding, and we travel,"  
"Yes, correct," he looked thoughtful for a few seconds. "Er, that's it,"  
"Well, it's better than nothing," he looked away with a dejected expression, and Donna realised her mistake.

He remembered more about her than anything else. He knew nothing of himself. "I'm sorry, I meant..."  
"I know what you meant Donna, it's alright," he smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. She hadn't meant to remind him of how intense the Amnesia was, and started feeling guilty as they continued on in silence. "Tell me about yourself," he said after a few minutes of awkward silence. "Um, I don't know. I live with Wilf and Sylvia?" He raised an eyebrow at the almost visible question mark. "And they are?"  
"Sylvia's my mother and Wilf is my grandfather," he nodded, obviously storing that information away for later.

After another few seconds he asked a completely different question. "What kind of person am I?" Donna's mind went blank. "What?"  
"What kind of person am I?"  
"Um, well, first of all, you're not a person," he stopped and turned to stare at her incredulously. "What?"  
"You're not human,"  
"What?"  
"You're an alien,"  
"_What?_" She sighed, rubbing her eyes wearily. This was going to be an interesting conversation. "You knew you had a spaceship that travels through time, but you didn't remember what you are?"  
"Apparently not," he'd gone pale, and she was almost scared he'd faint again.

Donna got ready to catch him if he fell. "Ok," he whispered, seeming to be having trouble processing the new information. "You wanna sit down?" She asked, motioning towards one of the plastic chairs lining the hallway. He nodded weakly and collapsed heavily into a chair, Donna sitting beside him as he took deep breaths. "I'm an alien,"  
"Yes,"  
"And you're sure?"  
"Yes, martian boy," she replied, playfully nudging him in the ribs. He laughed and pushed her in return. "Martian boy? I doubt I'm from Mars,"  
"That's beside the point. You said you're a Time Lord,"  
"That explains the time machine,"  
"Yep," he nodded again.

She watched the people walk by as he got over the fact that he was an alien. "Ok," he finally said after a long, pensive silence. "What's different about me compared to you?"  
"Not much, from what I know; if you wanted details you'll have to ask Harry and Grace,"  
"Who are they to me?"  
"Good friends from what I can tell?" He tilted his head in a silent question. "Apparently it was a long time ago when you travelled with them,"  
"I travelled with them?"  
"Yes, like how you travel with me,"  
"Right," he yanked on the IV irritably, since it was still in the middle of the hallway and it trundled over to him in an almost lazy fashion. He frowned at it for a while. "Have I always not liked this?"  
"Not liked what?"  
"Not running," she took the IV and pulled it over to her, since he looked like he was going to try and strangle it. "Yeah, but don't worry; we can keep running soon."

And run they did. As soon as he left the hospital the next day he ran through the park, laughing giddily. Donna followed at a much calmer pace, smiling fondly at his antics. She didn't care about the weird stares she was receiving, it was wonderful just to see him laughing again. He yelled triumphantly and stopped suddenly enough to startle a passing family. He spun to face Donna, and she nodded expectantly. "Yeah?"  
"I like running Donna," she laughed hysterically for a few minutes. "What?"  
"I don't know why, why do I like running?"  
"I don't know, you never told me," he pouted for a few seconds before darting off again.

She felt the smile returning as he spun around a tree gleefully. Memories were bombarding her, and she didn't whether to feel guilty again, but he didn't have that anymore. It was eerie still seeing him without that sadness in her eyes. What if she had to tell him one day? She didn't want that sadness, that complete aloneness to return. It would be cruel to tell him he wiped out his own race. But it would be equally as cruel to keep it from him. She just wanted to concentrate on the good though. She didn't want to dwell on the future or the past; she just wanted to drink in the emotions the current moment brought.

They could start running again. They would just have to pick up the pieces as they ran.

* * *

I really hope you guys enjoyed reading SaM as much as I enjoyed writing it!  
As I said before though, there will be an epilogue and a sequel, as SaM is actually part of a trilogy :D  
Anyway, please R&R and tell me if you liked it.


	18. Epilogue

I wanted to keep this short to coincide with the prologue. It's also connected to the prologue through the dream sequence the prologue consists of.

* * *

Donna awoke to the realisation that it had been a year since The Incident. The Doctor's Amnesia had never cleared, but he was happy, and that was all that mattered. She leapt out of bed and ran into the living room – the Doctor had chosen to live with her until he felt like travelling again – only to find it empty. "Doctor?" She called into the abandoned room, but there was no reply. It was only early morning, so perhaps he was asleep. She went into the guest room, which had been converted into his bedroom, but that too was empty. Had he gone for a walk?

She walked outside into the misty, gloomy early morning haze, but there was still no sign of him. "Hello darlin'" Came a familiar, gruff voice. She spun around, groping for a weapon of some kind. James and Delilah were behind her, Delilah swinging the whip around with a wicked grin and James just kind of standing there. Only when they approached and she tried to run did she feel the chains weighing her down. "Don't worry about your alien friend, we took good care of him," Delilah said, flicking the whip towards Donna. She felt something warm splatter her face and arms, and she looked down to see sticky, warm blood dripping down her arms. The blood dribbled into her mouth, and she spat out the familiar taste of iron disgustedly. Her kidnappers laughed joyously and she stood tall again. "I'm not scared of you," they stopped laughing. That was probably not a good idea. "You're not are you?" Delilah asked, smiling again. "Well we're gonna have to fix that aren't we?"  
"What?" Donna stumbled back, but not fast enough to avoid the whip.

She jerked awake, gasping, her arm stinging. Once her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she realised the Doctor was sitting on her bed by her feet, legs crossed and arms outstretched. The gazed at the cup he was thrusting in her direction, and he sat still and silent until she took it. Whatever it was, it was warm, and she her arm quickly stopped throbbing painfully. "Another one?" She nodded, taking a sip from what she identified as coffee. So much for getting back to sleep then. "Do you want to tell me about it?"  
"No," he sighed and flopped to the side he was laying sideways on her bed, sprawled over her legs. "Why not? You never tell me what happens,"  
"You never tell me what happens in yours," he frowned.

She knew she was hitting a soft spot, and that she was being a bit harsh, but she didn't want him to know how scared she was. He himself was very closed off when it came to his concerns, especially his nightmares. "Go to sleep," he remained frowning. "I'm not tired,"  
"You didn't sleep at all while at the hospital,"  
"I'm still not tired," she sighed dramatically and sipped more coffee as he loudly huffed dejectedly. "There are people," he swallowed nervously. "And they're burning," she tried to remain as still and silent as possible. "I want to help them, I want to save them, but then I start burning with them and they're dead but I won't die,"  
"Why?"  
"I don't know. I just stand there and let myself burn… And then I turn around and I walk away," he rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. "Why would I do that?"  
"Do you want to burn?"  
"No, I… I don't think so," he groaned and returned to lying on his back.

She knew why he wanted to burn, but she couldn't bring herself to tell him. Seeing him with Amnesia was different to seeing him with his memories. She wanted this version of him, as cruel and selfish as that was. "Doctor?" His eyes were closed, and he didn't respond to his name. Her legs were going numb, but she didn't want to wake him up just to tell him to move, so she put the half-empty mug on the desk and lay back down, closing her eyes and trying to clear her mind. She didn't know how long it took, but she eventually drifted into a dreamless, restless sleep which she awoke from many times, but she was comforted each time by the fact that the Doctor was still lying peacefully at the end of her bed.

* * *

Well, SaM is finally finished! Next week I'll hopefully get the first chapter of the next story up, which is going to be called Into the Abyss, and then there will be a third story after that :D


	19. Into the Abyss

If you enjoyed reading SaM, please do read the second story in the trilogy, Into the Abyss!


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